


The Past, Present and Future of Crona and Ragnaroc

by ChessSilven



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Memory Scenes, Possible Rape mentions- haven't figured that out yet, Possible Romantic Relations, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:24:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 102,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessSilven/pseuds/ChessSilven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{Set in the anime setting, not the manga.} After the Kishin has been defeated, Arachnophobia scattered and Death City rebuilt, Crona thinks that he might be able to finally relax and enjoy his friends' company. He should be able to do that, right? WRONG!<br/>He begins to regain memories of his tortured past, innocent things that are going on around him now bringing up his twisted childhood. How will he deal with that?<br/>Also, since the Kishin, Arachne,and Medusa are all dead, who's been killing off Lord Death's agents?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The White Rat

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, first off, I watched the anime first, so no matter what anyone says, {yes, even the genius who came up with Soul Eater} I firmly believe that Crona is a guy. I'm halfway through the manga and I keep getting weirded out by the fact that he's a girl. It was actually a shock when I read that he's technically an 'it', but... to satisfy myself, Crona shall always be a he in my fan fics. Sorry.  
> Second, for my plot to work, that whole scene with the little black dragon? He's gonna be five or six when that happens, not the actual age of probably three or four.  
> Third, I apologize to you the reader for any weirdness in my writing, but this story is hashing itself out as it goes, I don't have a proof-reader and I HATE EDITING! Seriously. So anyway, criticism on my work itself would be appreciated, though flames are unnecessary. I already live in a 90 degree area, I really don't need the additional heat. So, DISCLAIMER! I do not own Soul Eater, but the freaky ideas that I have put into this story are mine. THEY"RE ALL MINE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Chapter One  
Crona stumbled slightly as he walked through the halls of the DWMA, hurrying towards his next class. He flinched at every passing person, the ever-present madness of the black blood in his veins urging him to throw his fears away and slaughter all of the other students. Crona shook his head, trying semi-successfully to shove the insanity to the back of his mind. He winced and paused as Ragnaroc burst from his back, the pop of pain as his skin split not near as bad now as when Ragnaroc had been full sized. “Hey, idiot! If you’re already late for class, why not ditch the boring lesson for today and go to the candy store? My supply is running low.”  
“I can’t! If I get too many failing grades, then I’ll be expelled. I don’t think I can deal with being alone again!” Crona yelped as Ragnaroc socked him in the head.  
“Stupid moron! If you’re not going to cut class, then what the heck are you doing just standing around? Get your scrawny ass moving, Crona!” Ragnaroc huffed impatiently, then pulled himself back into Crona’s blood. Crona started shuffling along again, not looking forward to Dr. Stein’s lesson. He always had them dissecting or watching a dissection of some poor creature, and that reminded Crona uncomfortably of… well, he couldn’t quite remember what. Crona had had a large blank spot in his memories for as long as he could remember, up until he killed the black baby dragon when he was about six or seven.  
Crona finally got to the classroom, slinking into his spot while hoping that Dr. Stein hadn’t noticed that he was late. “You’re late.” Crona sank in his seat as all of the other students turned to look at him, his shyness hitting him like a hard slap on the cheek.  
“I’m sorry…” His mumbled words were probably barely able to be heard by the scary teacher, but Dr. Stein readjusted his glasses and nodded.  
“Try not to be tardy again, alright?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Now, back to today’s lesson! Each of you will come down here and select one of these rats, a pair of gloves, a mask, and a scalpel. Let’s go now, hurry hurry…” Dr. Stein gestured towards a small tank full of dead rats, a pile of the other objects that he had named stacked beside the glass container. Crona fell into line behind Maka, who he was fortunate enough to sit next to. He wasn’t sure how well he would have been able to get through being around so many other people and Dr. Stein’s lectures without her comforting presence beside him. He put on the gloves and mask when it was his turn, gingerly picking up one of the dead rats and a scalpel before returning to his seat. Crona finally noticed the shiny metal trays that had been set in front of each student’s seat, following suit as everyone else set their rats down on their tray. There were a few grossed out complaints, but those were quickly silenced as Dr. Stein’s calculating eyes settled on them, looking like he was thinking about how they would serve as his next dissection projects. “Once you’ve all settled down, we’ll begin.”  
The classroom slowly quieted as boys and girls took their seats, most of the boys prodding their rats while some of the girls had scooted their corpses as far away from them as possible. Crona felt like curling up and hiding, but he consciously forced himself to stay put. Still, he could see his hand shaking where it rested against the table. A hand reached over to hold it steady, Maka’s kind smile calming Crona somewhat. He gave her a small smile in return as she squeezed his hand gently before releasing it and turning back to Dr. Stein. “Alright, follow along with me as I make this first incision. Slice a Y down it’s throat, like so…”  
Crona gulped, looking with great trepidation at his rat as he reluctantly picked up his scalpel. He had unfortunately gone through enough of Stein’s dissection lessons to know the proper way to hold a scalpel, though it felt wrong to his hand. He was used to wielding the larger Ragnaroc with both hands, this small blade oddly familiar and yet… not, at the same time. Crona’s hand was trembling again as the scalpel hovered over the deceased rodent. Finally pulling together enough courage, he pressed the sharp point against the dead rat’s throat, the edge smoothly biting through the fur and flesh. Crona gasped and flinched as it seemed to move, wriggling in pain, phantom squeaks shattering through his mind; a memory of a time long past.  
_“Kill it, then remove its organs.” Lady Medusa’s cold voice was directed at young Crona, the little boy having been watching the white rat with awed fascination. He had seen gray and black rats before, nasty creatures that skittered across the floor of his new room. Crona could only see that they were there when the door was open, the pitch black shadows hiding their dark forms easily. When the door was closed, he could only hear their tiny feet pattering across the stone, sometimes drawing close enough to him to make him flinch. Every now and then, several would gather together and attack him, scratching and biting the toddler Crona. He couldn’t do much about it, seeing as how there wasn’t anything in his room to stand on or attack them back with, so he had collected a mass of small scratches and bite marks on his legs and arms over the past week._  
_But this rat seemed so different from his tormentors, its pink eyes not filled with a lust for his blood, only friendly curiosity. It had actually come and sniffed at him, Crona stiffening in wariness as it had pattered over. He had closed his eyes in a wince, waiting for the shock of teeth or claws to sink into his skin, but instead of the expected pain, he ended up flinching at the shock of a nose snuffling at his bare ankle. Crona cracked one eye open to see it looking up at him, then turning around and shuffling off, losing interest in the mound of boy behind it._  
_“I don’t want to.” Crona frowned, realizing that came out wrong, so he started to explain. “I don’t want to hurt it-“_  
_“Don’t you want to make up for what you did?” Lady Medusa’s voice was silky now as she cut him off, slit gold eyes studying him._  
_“Y-yes, but I don’t understand how killing it will help-“_  
_Lady Medusa interrupted him again. “Kill the rat now, or you will never be able to atone for your crime.” She turned away, her sudden disinterest as plain as the snake tattoos that wrapped around her arms. “I personally don’t really care, but I would have thought that you cared more about him than this. After all, I need that rodent’s organs to fix him.”_  
_Crona whimpered, beginning to shake as his guilt and sorrow racked his small frame. “Th-this will help him?”_  
_Lady Medusa turned around, a wide smile stretched creepily across her face. He felt a shiver run up his spine at the sight, but quickly forgot that as she nodded. “I promise you that if you do this…and a few other small tasks, he will feel better than ever.”_  
_Crona stood straighter, determination flooding him. “What… What do I have to do?”_  
_She pulled a small scalpel out of one of her pockets, handing it to him. “Kill it however you can, but don’t destroy any of its organs, or we’ll have to do this again.” His hand was trembling as he accepted the blade, hating what he was about to do. Crona approached the rat, his determination draining away with every step he took towards it, until finally he dropped to his knees, the scalpel hitting the marble floor beside him._  
_“I can’t.”_  
_Lady Medusa scoffed in disgust, Crona watching in fear as a snake slithered past him. “Fine. If you won’t give it a quick, easy death, then I’ll have to kill it.” The snake struck, rat screeching in agony as the snake’s jaws latched onto one of its hind legs. “My lovely companion over there just injected that rodent with a particularly nasty kind of venom. It will die, after a few agony-filled hours, and then you can remove its organs. However, since you wouldn’t give it a swift death, I think that it’s only fitting that you watch its slow demise.” She strode out of the room, door slamming shut behind her, the snake curling up contentedly on the other side of the room. The rat writhed on the floor, shrill squeals bursting from its small mouth. Crona covered his ears and shut his eyes, sitting with his back against the wall as he tried to escape the creature’s howls of distress._  
_After about ten minutes, the sounds stopped, Crona hesitating before peeking towards the rat. The rodent’s figure was thrashing and squirming around on the cold marble, eyes rolling around and around in its sockets. He whimpered and shut his eyes again, shutting out the image. Guilt jabbed his mind, the thought that the rat’s pain was his fault making his stomach turn. Crona flinched as a shriek thrust its way out of the rodent’s foaming mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, wishing that he had just killed it when Lady Medusa had told him to. Crona picked the scalpel up as he got to his feet, slowly walking towards the suffering rat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He raised the blade, light flashing off of the razor edge. “Sorry, so, so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you…” The scalpel plunged down, burying itself in the rat’s skull. It shuddered once, then relaxed, body going limp. Crona pulled the blade out with a shaking hand, flinching as blood spattered his hand. A tear ran down his cheek as he dropped the scalpel, catching sight of the creature’s misery filled pink eyes, so different from the cheerful curiosity from only moments ago. The tear dripped onto the floor next to his hand, leaving a tiny clear drop beside the crimson droplets surrounding it._  
_The door creaked open, Medusa padding in silently with her bare feet. “Well done, Crona. Now remove the organs that I need.” When he made no move to obey her, she frowned slightly, her gold eyes flashing dangerously. “You should remember what happened the last time you didn’t follow my instructions, after all it was only a few minutes ago.”_  
_Crona flinched and mutely reached for the discarded scalpel again, his pale fingers wrapping around the thin metal handle. He shuddered as he rolled the rat over onto its back. “Make a light Y cut under its chin. Don’t let the blade slip in too far, or it might rupture the rodent’s organs.”_  
_Crona, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears that just kept rolling down his cheeks, obeyed. Blood welled up from the slice, the blade coming up red. “Now, keeping the incision light, continue down its belly and make another Y.” He did so, gulping down his nausea. “Pull the flaps apart so that you can see inside.”_  
_Crona numbly slipped his fingers through the slit, the flesh inside warm and sticky against his skin. He gagged as he pushed the flaps of loose skin and fur apart, revealing bloody organs and bones. “Crack the ribcage.” He noted distantly how easily the fragile bone snapped between his fingers, shards making white jags in the lumps of red. “Slice those veins, then gently pull out the liver and kidneys.” Crona did as he was told, following the horrific instructions to the letter. “Now the heart.” As he lifted the fragile organ out of the corpse, Crona was struck by how easy it was for him to destroy something as weak as the curious rat._  
_“Excellent. Bring them.” He stood shakily, his small legs trembling as Medusa stalked down the hall. Crona followed her, glancing back one last time to see the snake swallow the rat’s remains whole, leaving nothing but a crimson smeared white marble floor and a dripping scarlet scalpel. As his feet carried him down the dark passage, Crona realized that he was a horrible person. Nobody could do what he’d done and not be evil. Crona flinched at the thought, his gaze happening to fall upon his red stained hands and the small organs gently cradled there._  
_“I-I don’t think that I know how to deal with this…” he admitted to himself, his voice hollow in the huge hall._  
Crona gasped, dropping the scalpel onto the tray, trying to scramble back but only managing to trip over one of the legs of his chair, falling hard to the floor. He curled up into a tight ball, back to the desk behind him as his entire body shook with fear. “-ona. Crona! Look at me, are you okay?” Maka’s voice was worried, a gentle hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Crona?”  
“I c-can’t deal with myself…” Crona whispered faintly in between soft sobs. He hated his life up until this point, knowing that he was an awful being who shouldn’t be alive after the cruelty he had unleashed. Crona’s new friends insisted that it was Lady Medusa’s fault, but he knew that he was a monster. The more memories of his childhood that Crona remembered, the more certain he was of the fact that he was scum through and through. What little kids did the evil things that he had done? Even the most viciously brutal criminals waited until they were adults before becoming villains. Crona couldn’t understand why all these heroic people wanted him to be their friend; he’d tried to kill them all at one point or another. He huddled into a tighter ball. The only good thing that he’d ever done was to save Maka from his mo- Lady Medusa, and that had almost been for completely selfish reasons. He had hoped that he would die there and save his new-found friends the trouble of being around him and his monstrous personality, but they had saved and fixed him, being the heroes that they were, the only remnant of the battle being the healing scar on his chest.  
“Professor Stein? Can Crona and I be excused?”  
“… I suppose so.”  
Crona sensed Maka kneeling next to him, the warm hand returning to his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to your room.” He nodded mutely, getting to his feet and silently following the blonde as she strode confidently through the rows of staring students. Crona could feel the disgust that they had towards his weakness, their gazes hostile as he walked past. He deserved all of it and more, but it still hurt.  
They got to his room, which had been recently converted from a cell. It hadn’t really changed much, the biggest difference being that his door stayed open rather than being locked shut all the time. It was comfortable to him, the room being just big enough that his claustrophobia didn’t kick in, and not big enough that it felt empty. A thin rug covered the stone floor, a small lamp set on his desk lighting up the space with a warm glow, and his bed set against one wall. Crona didn’t need much space, because he didn’t have many things that he had to store, the objects that he owned being limited to; three outfits; the black robe he was wearing, one of the only things that Medusa had ever given him, the white shirt and pants that Dr. Stein had given him when he enrolled in school, and a perfectly symmetrical dark grey suit that Kid had given him, several educational books from Maka, his school books, and a little chest under his bed that held; a small sketch pad that Miss Marie had found somewhere along with a packet of colored pencils, a small silver chain serpent charm necklace, and several photos of Crona and his friends. Oh, and Ragnaroc’s stash of candy, the grumpy Weapon’s one weakness. Ragnaroc was addicted to sugar, the small high he got apparently similar to when he ate human souls.  
“What happened, Crona?” Maka asked, sitting beside him on his bed. He refused to look at her, knowing that seeing him crying always upset her. Crona willed the tears to stop, not wanting to hurt his companion, but every time he remembered the blade sinking into the rat’s head they started back up again. “Crona?”  
Crona almost sank into the floor as Ragnaroc made an appearance, the black blood flowing up to form his muscular figure. “Wuss!” Ragnaroc sneered, popping Crona in the head. “You’re just pathetic, you know that? Getting scared of a memory with your mommy in it. How stupid can you be, dumbass?” The words were accompanied by blows, Ragnaroc’s white hands cuffing his ears.  
WHACK!  
Ragnaroc whimpered, holding his own head where a large indent had appeared. “What the hell is wrong with you, flat girl? You can’t just go around beating the shit out of people with books!”  
WHACK! “Wanna bet?”  
Ragnaroc jerked one hand at her, probably making a rude gesture, but with his round hands it was hard to tell. He slipped back into Crona with a muttered, “Bitch.”  
“S-sorry about that…” Crona offered, feeling even worse than before.  
“Don’t worry about him, that wasn’t your fault.” A white gloved hand slipped under his chin, guiding his head up from where he was staring at the floor. Maka’s green eyes were serious, concern mixing with half-concealed anger. He flinched, wondering how much of that anger was turned towards him. “Was what he said true? Did another of your memories with Medusa come back?”  
Crona’s gaze fell from hers, staring at the corner of his room rather than into those emerald eyes that were steadily filling with rage. “Y-Yes.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
He shook his head violently, almost falling off the bed.  
She nodded thoughtfully, then moved to sit in the room’s chair. “Why don’t you sketch it out? The next class isn’t for another half hour.”  
Crona really didn’t want to, but he could tell that Maka was going to have him deal with his memory one way or another, and he preferred to draw than talk, sketches being able to be ripped up while conversations had no such comforting quality. Crona sighed and reached under his bed, sliding out the small chest and pulling out the sketch pad. Almost half the pages were missing now, Crona having been drawing out his returning memories more and more lately.There were only a handful of his pictures that Maka had never seen, Crona having stashed them under his mattress. For some reason Maka always wanted to keep his drawings, rather then letting him destroy them after they were finished. He didn’t really care if she took them, just as long as he never had to see them again, but he hated showing her how brutally vicious he was at his core.  
It only took him twenty minutes to draw out the figures, the last ten minutes being spent on coloring and shading. Crona finally tucked the small stub of his red pencil away, wearily realizing that his picture was done.  
“Finished?”  
“Y-yeah.”  
Maka stood, walking over. “Do you mind if I see it?”  
He hesitated, then sighed and handed the thin pad over. She gasped slightly as she saw it, face paling momentarily. Crona looked down at the floor again, thinking about Maka’s emotions. The one he saw the most when she was with him was cheerful kindness, something he didn’t deserve, as was the second which was seeping into her eyes now; pity. The third most common emotion was anger, something Crona knew that only he and Soul brought out in the even-tempered girl. His fists clenched momentarily, his own anger flaring briefly at her pity. Crona wasn’t the one who deserved her pity, all of his victims were! Then the anger drained away, replaced by a dull ache as she gave him a strong hug. “Crona, I’m so sorry.”  
Surprise flooded the thin boy. “Wh-what? Why? I’m the one who did…that.”  
“I’m so sorry that you grew up with that horrible woman for a mother. Crona, this-“ holding the picture up, “this wasn’t your fault.”  
He stared blankly at the page, the horrible images that he had drawn turning his stomach. The dark room, lit only by a dull overhead light. The scalpel lying beside the sliced up rat, blood staining the clean white floor a nasty red. His crimson splattered hands, holding the organs of the deceased rodent. The back of Lady Medusa, her hooded figure plain as she strode off. Finally, Crona had added a sketch of the live rat above everything else, trying hard to capture that inquisitive sociability that had caught his attention and sympathy so long ago.  
Maka folded the paper up. “Do you mind if I keep this?”  
“I-if you want.”  
She slipped the drawing into her jacket pocket, then turned her focus back on Crona. “Answer me this, did you want to hurt that rat?”  
Crona shuddered, not understanding what that had to do with anything. “No.”  
“Then why did you do it?”  
“B-because I had to help fix someone I had hurt, and Lady Medusa said that they needed its organs.”  
Curiosity flickered on her face. “Who did you hurt?”  
Crona opened his mouth to answer, but realized that he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that whoever he had hurt was very important to him. “I d-don’t remember.”  
Maka nodded, still hugging him with one arm. “That’s okay. Did you enjoy killing it?”  
Crona’s heart hurt as he heard the question, realizing that Maka really thought that he might have liked that. “No! Of course not!”  
“So what you’re telling me is that Medusa told you to kill the rat, but you didn’t want to and you didn’t enjoy it.”  
Crona nodded, then jerked slightly as he realized what she had just said. He peeked up at Maka, only to see her smiling at him. “You’d never thought of it like that, had you?”  
“No…”  
“Here’s another point. Do you think that Professor Stein is good?”  
Crona thought about it moment before nodding again. The doctor was creepy and a little crazy, but overall he was a very good man. “Well, he had a lot of rats killed for today’s lesson. He may not have killed them himself-“ Maka frowned. “actually, he probably did kill them himself. But anyway, do you still think that he’s not bad?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then why are you being so hard on yourself over following Medusa’s orders?”  
Ragnaroc quickly oozed back out, the speed with which he came out making Crona gasp in pain. “Because he’s an idiot!”  
Maka hefted a sturdy book, the threat inherent in her body language. Ragnaroc flinched and shut up. “Are you feeling better?”  
Crona nodded, surprised that he wasn’t lying. “Yes. Thank you, Maka.”  
Maka hugged him tightly again before standing and offering him her gloved hand. “Come on, or we’re going to be late for Miss Marie’s lesson!”


	2. Beatings and Ragnaroc's Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Crona and Ragnaroc are summoned to Lord Death's office, what news will they be given, and what favor does Maka want from Crona?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think of the first chapter? I hope you liked it. By the way, if you didn't like Crona's memory because of the blood and gore, you might want to skip this story, because I'm just getting started! Yes, I may be a little twisted and messed up, judging by how easy it's being to write this out, but I don't care. So... I don't own Soul Eater. Obvious, isn't it?

**** Chapter Two  
  


Crona was lying on his bed in his shorts, almost asleep when someone banged on his door. "Hey, kid! Coming in!"

The door slammed open, Crona jumping in shock to pull a blanket over himself as the huge zombie Sid clomped in. "Ah. Sorry about that, but Lord Death wanted to see you. Apparently there's another emergency that needs to get taken care of." Sid turned around to give Crona some privacy as he hurriedly put on his white uniform, muttering darkly, "I never used to barge into people's rooms without permission, you know. That was just the kind of man that I was."

As they trotted down the halls and passages, Crona wondered what was going on. Was he in trouble? Ragnaroc slid out of his back, yawning loudly and stretching.

"What the hell are you still doing up, Crona? You're so pathetic that you never stay up past nine." Crona's Weapon's eyes fell on Sid. "Oh, crap! Is this about stealing that bag of candy from those twerps in class? If it is, then I just want you to know that it was Crona's idea."

"What?" Crona was immediately whacked, Ragnaroc hissing at him to shut up. "But I didn't-"

"Actually, I never heard about that." Sid turned his head towards the duo, Ragnaroc audibly gulping as he ducked behind Crona's head. "And just this once, I'm going to pretend I still haven't."

"Sweet!" Ragnaroc roared, inasmuch as the tiny version of him could, voice exultant. "You are definitely my favorite teacher!"

Sid grinned as they walked under the guillotine blades and into the head master's office. "Oh, hello Crona!" Tsubaki greeted him softly, waving a hand at him. Crona waved back at her, a small smile on his lips.

"What the hell am I? Chopped liver?" Ragnaroc fumed, arms crossed as he glared at the girl.

"Hello Ragnaroc."

"Whatever."

"What's up, little people? Fall to your knees in awe at the amazingness that is the one and only Black Star!" Black Star jumped off the top of the mirror on the center of the room, flipping in the air before hitting the ground and striking a pose. Tsubaki began to clap, a tolerant smile tugging at her lips, Crona joining in. Black Star simultaneously impressed and intimidated Crona to no end, his fearless bluster something that Crona envied even as it unsettled him. "Thank you, thank you. I know that your applause is well deserved, but it never hurts to hear."

"'Sup, everybody?" Soul smirked as he and Maka entered the room, Maka waving cheerfully at Crona and Tsubaki.

"Sid, do you know what's going on?" Maka asked, green eyes studying the blue man curiously. "Why did we get summoned here at-" she checked her watch, "Eleven twenty at night?"

The giant zombie shook his head, a frustrated frown on his face. "Sorry, and we can't go on without Kid, Liz, Patty and Stein."

It took another five minutes for the other four to arrive, but Crona could hear them from the other end of the hall. "Seriously Kid? You had to make sure that all of the rugs were exactly horizontal to the doors after the Professor told you that there was an emergency? You need to work on your priorities." Liz sounded peeved, her tone shrill.

"I understand, but-"

"No! No buts, Kid! You really need to get over your obsession!"

"That's a task easier said than done, Liz;I've had this compulsion ever since I was a very young child. Besides, I must admit that I rather enjoy the satisfaction that accompanies perfect symmetry, even if it is a difficult path to walk at times."

Liz shook her head as they entered the room, expression exasperated. "Kid, you have a problem."

Stein grinned, twisting the giant screw in his head a few clicks tighter. "I could always tinker inside that fascinating mind of yours, see if I could get rid of your obsessive-compulsive disorder…"

Kid paled and took a step away from him, cheering up when he caught sight of the group. "Good evening."

"Howdy howdy!" Lord Death's voice surprised everyone, the headmaster popping out of the mirror behind them. "What's up, everyone? Having a good evening?"

"What's this crisis that you called us down here about, Father?" Kid asked after everyone politely greeted their slightly spastic headmaster.

"Oh." Death straightened, his manner suddenly serious. Everyone unconsciously leaned forward, the tension in the air so thick you probably could have cut it. "Do you think that I should repaint the Death Room? The Keishen did a number on it, so now would be the time to do any changes! What do you think?"

"Wh-what?" Kid's voice was weak as he stared at his father, expression stunned.

"I was having a hard time choosing between a view of woods, a winter scene or maybe even a stormy day. So… opinions, anyone?"

Sid and Kid's eyes twitched, Kid making an odd sound as Lord Death watched them inquisitively. "A winter scene might be nice…" Soul said finally, Maka shooting him a disbelieving stare. Death bounced, large hands clapping together.

"I know, but that seems like it would make you feel cold all of the time."

Soul shrugged, and that was when Black Star joined in. "You should make a huge painting of me in there! That would be perfect, after all, I'm the one who surpassed god!"

"DEATH CHOP!" Black Star lay on the ground bleeding, an indent of Lord Death's hand in the back of his head.

"So was that a no?" he asked weakly before passing out.

"In any case, the more important reason I called you all down here is because that there have been attacks on agents of ours all around the world."

"If they've been all over the world, then how can you tell that they're related incidents?" Tsubaki asked as she hurried over to Black Star's side.

"That's a good question! All of the attacked agents had a symbol, a skull in front of crossed scythes, carved into the palm of their right hand. There haven't been any survivors, all twenty eight of them being killed in horrible ways that I won't go into right now. Well, there haven't been any survivors until tonight, one right here in Death City."

"Who was attacked?" Maka asked. Death glanced her way, an almost apologetic look on his face.

"Your father, Spirit."

Maka paled, Soul putting a comforting hand around her shoulders. "Is he okay?"

Death hesitated, then waved a hand at his mirror, the glass rippling momentarily. When it settled, it showed Spirit on a hospital bed, bandages almost completely engulfing the man. He appeared to be unconscious; something that Crona could tell was a good thing. Having had enough various injuries in his fifteen years he had gotten an elementary sense of how bad wounds were, and Spirit's were very, very bad.

"He's alive and in stable condition, but your father is going to be out of commission for a few days, at the very least." Stein's words were slightly muffled by the cigarette that he had just stuck in his mouth. "Spirit was found about an hour ago beaten to a pulp in a back alley. He never gained consciousness to tell us who attacked him." He held a match to the tip of his cigarette, the end glowing as it caught. "Whoever it was didn't want Spirit dead, which makes me wonder what was different about him than the others."

"What does that mean?" Tsubaki asked him, her expression horrified. Crona flinched, knowing exactly what it meant, having been given wounds that looked somewhat similar to this before.  
_  
Five-year-old Crona ran down a hall, shaking like a leaf. That hadn't looked like the Ragnaroc that he knew! This Ragnaroc sneered evilly, his voice cruel as he taunted Crona. Crona ducked into one of the many rooms that dotted the passage, hiding under a table. What had he done? Lady Medusa had warned him not to look under the sheet, but to see Ragnaroc again… Then he had woken up, and everything was wrong about him. Crona's trembling got worse as he remembered how his beloved best friend had shoved him into the wall and pulled his hair, chuckling the entire time._

_"Crona…" Ragnaroc's voice was singsong, heavy footsteps clomping down the hall. "Come out, come out wherever you are…"_

_Lady Medusa's cold voice was directed at Ragnaroc. "Remember, you can have as much… fun, with him as you want, but don't kill or break him. You two should make a very interesting experiment, and I don't want it ruined by your idiocy. Understood?"_

_"Sure." Lady Medusa always went barefoot, so Crona was never able to tell where she was, her footsteps silent against the hard floors. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm, yanking him out from under the table. Lady Medusa's gold slit eyes studied him for a moment before shoving him into Ragnaroc's waiting grasp. "Hey, little buddy! I've been looking everywhere for you."_

_Ragnaroc's words were innocent, but Crona could hear an undertone of malice. Fear began to wiggle in Crona's stomach._

_"Ragnaroc, let me go please?" Ragnaroc scowled, his grip tightening._

_"Shut up." He glanced around the room, eyes lighting up at something on the table. Ragnaroc dragged Crona back to the table, easily holding the younger boy with one arm while the other grabbed the coil of rope. "Hey, Lady M. You mind getting this up there?" Medusa, who had just sat down in a chair on the other side of the room, sent Ragnaroc an icy glare. "Fine, fine. Just asking."_

_Crona watched as he threw half of the rope up, Ragnaroc's brute strength sending the cord flying over one of the room's rafters. Stepping on one end, Ragnaroc used the other half to tie Crona's hands together tightly. Pulling the other end, he forced Crona's hands over his head, the small boy soon having to stand on tip toe to keep his weight off of his arms. Ragnaroc tied the loose section to a firmly fastened metal decoration on the opposite wall, walking back towards Crona with a happy grin. "It's been a while, huh? Let's see, the last time I saw you, you gave me this." He fingered the huge thick white scar that crisscrossed over his nose. "I never got to say how much I appreciated that. So here… let me show you." Ragnaroc slammed a fist into Crona's stomach, the five-year-old trying to double over but only managing to bruise his wrists._

_"Ragnaro-"_

_"Shut up, you little twerp!" CRACK! Crona's head snapped back, Ragnaroc's kick catching him under the chin. Crona's chin was throbbing from the blow, but that was nothing compared to his mental anguish. Where was his kind protector who had been teaching him to use a sword? Ragnaroc's eyes flashed with anger. THWACK! A fist to his side… SMACK! An elbow to his face… Thud thud thud thud thud! A barrage of blows, one after another… Crona coughed, tasting blood in his mouth._

_"Ragnaroc…" his voice was weak and full of pain, but he still managed to catch the older boy's attention. "What happened to you?"_

_Ragnaroc's expression darkened. "You happened to me, you damn shit! Don't you remember?" Crona's eyes widened at Ragnaroc's foul language. "What, you don't like cursing? Well too fucking bad for you!" Ragnaroc paused suddenly, an evil smile growing on his face. "You know what? Instead of showing you how little I liked getting this," gesturing sharply at his face, "maybe I should just let you find out for yourself, huh?"_

_He held out his right fist, and it abruptly began to flatten and sharpen, turning into a black and silver blade. Ragnaroc gently ran the razor edge along Crona's cheek, his smile only growing as Crona whimpered. Fear was now pulsing through every vein of his body, terror of the boy in front of him making him shake harder than a tree in a hard wind. The pain in his aching body from his beating wasn't helping either, not to mention his feet were starting to cramp from standing on his toes for so long, and his wrists were rubbed raw from the tough rope encircling them. "D-don't, please…"_

_Ragnaroc's smile was pure malevolence as the blade slashed Crona's face, crimson trickling into his left eye from the cut that ran from over his eyebrow to the bottom of the opposite cheek. Crona yelped loudly, the first sound of pain that he had made so far. "Hurts, doesn't it? And that wasn't even close to the size of blade that I got hit with. Come to think of it, that isn't near as deep either, but I'll make up for quality with quantity." The blade flashed again, and pain seared across the other side of his face, Crona now having to keep both eyes shut to keep blood from seeping in._

_He heard Ragnaroc's deep chuckle, the other boy apparently having a great time, then he howled as the biting knife sank into his side deeply, going all the way up to Ragnaroc's wrist. "Idiot! I told you not to give him any mortal wounds!" Crona had forgotten about Lady Medusa, but she sounded furious._

_"Sorry," Ragnaroc muttered, brutally ripping the blade back out. Crona's tortured cry was cut off as a fist cracked into his stomach, sending daggers of pain tearing through his entire torso. "Shut the hell up." The razor sharp edge slipped through Crona's back, sides and arms, but Ragnaroc never went deeper than an inch again._

_By the time that Ragnaroc had finished dicing him up, Crona had given up any pretense of strength; he hung limply from the rope, hot salty tears scalding the slices under his eyes._

_Suddenly the cord slackened, letting Crona crumple to the floor. A booted foot smashed into his slashed up chest, sending him flying briefly before slamming hard into a wall. He gagged momentarily, blood blocking his windpipe, before spitting the copper-tasting liquid out onto the floor._

_A strong hand grabbed his throat, sliding him up the wall. Crona feebly fought against the strong arm that held him up, but he felt Ragnaroc's grip squeeze further, and he knew that he was about to die at his best friend's hand._

_"That's enough."_

_Lady Medusa's voice was uncaring but firm, Ragnaroc letting Crona fall. Ragnaroc's boot pressed against his deepest blade wound, Crona's soft moan turning into an agonized wail before the pain finally overcame him and he lost consciousness._

"H-he was tortured, wasn't he." Crona was as surprised as everyone else by the quiet words that fell from his lips, immediately flushing and staring at his boots.

"No, no. Of course not! Spirit was just apparently in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all!" Lord Death's cheerful voice assured them. That doesn't seem right, Crona thought to himself, not convinced.

Maka spoke up, her voice cold and harsh, neither something that Crona had ever heard in her voice before. "Why wasn't I told about this?" Crona looked up towards her, and flinched. Her face was filled with fury, though her green eyes were teary.

Lord Death put his hands up in a why-don't-we-all-calm-down gesture. "Now now, why don't we all just calm down, we're telling you now, aren't we?"

Maka stepped towards him, hands clenching into fists. "I'm not going to calm down. I'm his daughter whether I like it or not, and I have a right to know when my father's in the hospital!"

"Maka, cool down-" Soul started, only to get an angry glare.

"No! I won't!"

Crona tentatively stepped forward; hating to see his friend in such pain, but not sure if he could deal with trying to comfort her. He reached out a hand, gingerly placing it on her shoulder. She spun on him, making Crona flinch again, but he managed to hold his ground and keep eye contact long enough to stammer, "Th-the people who hurt y-your dad, they should be scared. Look a-around at all your friends who w-want to help you. Y-your dad, he might be in th-the hospital right now, but he's got Dr. Stien working to fix him."

"Yeah!" Ragnaroc joined in, making Crona's eyes widen. "Sure, he might end up with a few toes switched around, but who cares, right? Besides, when we catch up with those bastards, I'll teach them a few lessons. I'll even eat their souls for ya!"

Maka didn't smile, but her frown did lessen. Soul put an arm around her shoulders again, turning her to see the rest of the kids in the room. "Don't sweat it, Maka. We'll get those guys and make them pay for what they did to your dad. As for Sid and the others not telling you about your dad, that wasn't cool. But give them a break, they're only adults."

Death and Sid blinked, Stein only blowing a stream of smoke out his mouth and grinning.

"Yeah, we'll bust 'em up good!" Patty exclaimed, making 'pppsshow' noises as she punched the air, Liz patting her sister's shoulder while Kid raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone who messes with my friends gets the full wrath of the mighty Black Star!" Black Star had apparently regained consciousness, Tsubaki kneeling beside him.

"Do you have any ideas on where Spirit's attacker or attackers might be, father?" Kid asked, his two-tone amber eyes cold.

"No, or we would already have agents on their way there." Lord Death sounded tired, his shoulders sagging slightly. "What I wanted you kids to do was go to the scene of the crime and snoop around, since people tend to trust children more than adults, and see if you could find anything that we couldn't. But if you want to stay at the hospital with Spirit, I more than understand."

Maka scowled at the floor, then nodded. "I'll go." The other kids all agreed too, Lord Death thanking them for their understanding. They walked back under the guillotine arches, Sid and Stein having stayed behind to talk with Death a while longer.

When Crona turned to head back to his room, Ragnaroc ducking back into his blood after his unexpected comments earlier, he was surprised by Maka trotting after him and grabbing his sleeve. "Hey, can we talk a minute?"

Crona nodded, walking after her a little ways down toward his room. She turned to face him, face set with determination. "I wanted to thank you for what you said back there. I needed to hear that."

He smiled softly, rubbing his arm. "I'm glad."

Maka hesitated, then continued on, a hint of pleading in her voice. "I also wanted to ask you a favor."

Crona looked up in surprise. "I'd do anything for you." He flushed at his mindless confession, hoping that Maka wouldn't be mad. She had been his steady stone to hold onto in the harshly flowing river of confusion following the Kishin's death, when people had time to realize that he was the once feared demon swordsman. There had been many cruel taunts and jibes once they got through their initial oh-crud-is-he-going-to-kill-me phase, all of which had been deflated by his small group of friends, Maka especially. Actually, some of the hostility still remained, though it was mostly shown in empty halls and dark halls, 'when his powerful friends couldn't save him', to quote one of his bullies. In any case, he was beginning to suspect that he had a crush on the pretty scythe Maister, and was more than willing to do whatever favor she asked of him to the best of his abilities.

Maka's green eyes softened, then grew slightly nervous as she rushed through her next sentences. "Would you stay and keep an eye on my dad for me? The fact that he's the only survivor in twenty eight attacks is worrying me. I-I'm scared that whoever did this might come back to finish the job."

Crona frowned. "Of course I'll protect your dad as best I can, but shouldn't you say something to Lord Death or Dr. Stein?"

Maka's eyes sparked with anger. "I don't believe that my dad's attack was just an accident, but you heard them in there when you suggested that it might have been intentional. If they won't even tell me why my own father has been hurt, then I don't really trust them too much."

He nodded, understanding her point of view but still feeling uncomfortable about not telling the adults about their hunch. "Promise me that you'll keep my dad safe while I'm gone? You should only have to watch him for a few days; Stein works quick miracles."

"I promise." Maka gave him a tight hug, Crona stiffening momentarily in shock before returning the embrace.

"Thank you, Crona. This means a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. That really sounds like that hurt.  
> Crona glares at Chess, walking over to punch Chess's shoulder. "Really? I never would have guessed!"  
> Chess raises hands, edging backwards. "Sorry..."  
> Question, did anyone notice the two or three big hints of undiscovered memories I left? Betcha didn't...
> 
> Note to all, another awesome song to look up...  
> Descent into Madness- Piano Synthesia  
> Beware all fellow piano players! This song will probably make you go crazy trying to learn it. I looked around, but I haven't been able to find the sheet music.  
> All right, please review! It makes my day to have messages from y'all. Criticism is appreciated, up to the point of flames. Thanks for reading!


	3. Black Slashes and Ragnaroc's Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnaroc's point of view. A continuation of one of Crona's memories, what happened next. Also, Doctor Stein's confession to an unconscious Spirit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, first chapter from Ragnaroc's point of view! His memories are easier to write, though I don't really know very many curses so he tends to repeat himself a lot. However, there are two things that make writing from Ragnaroc's view a pain in the butt, both of which you'll probably be able to figure out by the end of this chapter. One of them I've fixed in the next chapter, but the other remains a stick in my side. {sigh...}  
> In any case, I don't own Soul Eater. Anyone who says that I do, I send you many thanks for the compliment. But I still don't. {double sigh...}  
> Enjoy! Oh, and for people who read my story before May 4rth, 2015, I did make a few somewhat important changes in the last chapter. Just letting you know.

**Chapter Three**  
  
Ragnaroc's POV

Ragnaroc lay awake inside Crona's sleeping mind, thinking about how odd it felt being just a section of a being. There were two main parts; him, whatever he was, and the rude Ragnaroc. There were also several different odds and ends that were also apparently part of Ragnaroc that didn't have personal identities, such as his Weapon form and the black blood. Both of those parts were controlled by the two main halves of Ragnaroc.

The rude Ragnaroc was able to push himself out of Crona's skin and was also able to transform into Ragnaroc's Weapon form; a long iron Sword with a stripe of silver running up the center, silver studded straps wrapped around the black leather hilt and first few inches of midnight black blade.

On the other hand was… well, the other half of Ragnaroc. That part of his being was trapped in Crona's mind; not really being able to do anything but sit around and watch what Crona and the rude part of Ragnaroc did, his abilities limited to being able to control the black blood in Crona's veins. All in all, Ragnaroc felt that it really bit being only half of a being.

He finally fell asleep, one of the other few things he could do, after sitting around for a while wondering for the millionth time what in the heck he was. Ragnaroc was pretty sure that he wasn't his original self's soul, but the only other possibility that he had been able to come up with was that he was what was left of his original identity.

Whatever he was, it never failed to weird him out that he had a little den inside of Crona's head, complete with comfortable chairs, a table, a bed, and a huge flat screen.  
The screen was split up into four monitors; one showing what Crona saw, another what he was thinking about, the other two showing what the rude Ragnaroc saw and thought. One nice thing about being him was that somehow or another he could understand what all four screens were playing out; he 'overheard' and could watch what both the rude Ragnaroc and Crona were thinking, seeing and hearing at the same time.

Watching had been a lot nicer lately, Crona's thoughts a lot happier than they had been with his mother. Ragnaroc had spent a lot of time with his hands in his ears, eyes closed tightly while Crona was tortured mentally and physically by both his mother and the rude Ragnaroc, though it never helped. The same thing that helped him to know what was going on also wouldn't turn off; so no matter what he did, he always knew what awful things were happening to his young Maister.

The nicer and more peaceful times still had their dark times though, Crona having been remembering more and more of his early childhood. Ragnaroc had forgotten his past too, only remembering flashes up until about the same point as Crona. He figured that it had something to do with his being having been ripped to pieces, and was glad that he didn't remember more. However, with every memory that Crona regained, Ragnaroc gained a memory of the same time.

Ragnaroc woke up a little after Crona did, flopping into one of the chairs just as the tall teenager went to take a shower. The water cascaded over his lean body, his body actually mostly muscle. However, due to some unfortunate experimentation on his mother's part, Crona looked like a scrawny wimp; something that wasn't helped by the fact that he always had his shoulders up to his ears, half expecting to get hit at any moment.

Ragnaroc also saw the thin black slashes that cut across Crona's torso, some also running around his legs, arms and one particularly large one wrapping from behind his right ear across to his left pectoral. He heard Crona wonder, as he always did when he saw the marks, what exactly had happened to him. The ink black stripes were one of the reasons that the boy didn't wear t-shirts or shorts around his friends, Crona always thinking that he wouldn't know how to deal with it if they freaked out over the marks. Of course, Ragnaroc could have told him that they would just accept the slashes as part of him, with no judgments or scorn, but the little fact that he couldn't get out of a room in Crona's mind kept him from speaking with the timid teen. Another thing that he might have told him was that he remembered how Crona had received the black stripes, and who had given them to him.  
 _  
Rude Ragnaroc tightened his grip on the five-year-old Crona's neck, the little boy fighting weakly before beginning to go limp._  
 _"That's enough." Medusa's voice cracked into the silence, lined with icy disdain for both Ragnaroc and Crona. He sneered at the toddler before letting him fall to the floor, Crona gasping as he hit the ground._

_Ragnaroc's hatred for the kid in front of him overrode his fear of the woman behind him and he placed one heavy boot onto the deepest blade wound he had inflicted, the stupid brat's soft yelp turning into a harsh scream as the rude Ragnaroc pressed harder on the injury. The boy shuddered, his entire body stiffening, then he sagged against the floor, out like a light._

_"Little bastard!" Ragnaroc hissed, looking at the crimson smear staining his boots._

_"Here." Ragnaroc squeaked, jumping in surprise as Medusa spoke, the creepy witch somehow having managed to get from across the room to directly behind him without making a sound. "Get as much of this into his injuries as you can, except for the slashes on his face." She handed him a vial of black ooze, some of his blood and soul mixed with a few secret ingredients. He grabbed the crystal container, considering dumping the entire bottle onto the stupid kid's face just to spite her, but decided that he still liked living too much._

_"Why the hell do I have to do this?" he asked, kneeling next to Crona's motionless form. "I'm not the mad scientist who wants to experiment on her own kid."_

_"Because I told you to, and I'm the only reason that you're alive right now."_

_"Shit. If you're going to bring that up in every argument, then I almost wish you hadn't brought me back."_

_Medusa gave that creepily evil smile of hers, the one that looked like it stretched all the way across her face. "Oh, I can remedy that quite easily. I'm sure that your other self would be very willing to have a body in return for helping me create the perfect weapon."_

_Ragnaroc flinched. "Fine, fine! I'm doing it already." He uncorked the vial, carefully letting a drop fall into each of the cuts and slashes that he had inflicted upon Crona, roughly smudging the sludge-like liquid to cover each wound. "Bitch," he muttered quietly as he waited for the black blood to sink in. When it had, he carelessly flipped the boy's small figure over, repeating the process on the other side. "There. All done."_

_"Excellent. Here, drink half of this, and introduce the other half to an open cut." Medusa gave him a second vial._

_He transformed his right hand back into the tip of his Weapon form, scratching the palm of his left hand deep enough to leave a line of crimson and tipping the slime out into his wound. Ragnaroc gritted his teeth, the black blood burning as it seeped into the wound. He eyed the other half, concerned about what drinking that gunk would do to his insides, then downed it. The black liquid oozed down his throat making the Weapon gag as it went down, finally settling in his stomach with a loud gurgle. "Ugh! This stuff tastes like crap, lady!"_

_"Oh, but I think that you'll appreciate the effects that it has." Medusa smiled again, gesturing towards his wrist. "Look at your cut." He tilted his hand upward, raising his eyebrows as he saw that his cut had healed completely, leaving only a thin black line._

_"Sweet." Ragnaroc commented, then something occurred to him and made his smirk turn into a scowl. He knelt next to Crona, wiping some of the blood off of the twerp's chest with his ruined shirt. Sure enough, the boy's wounds had healed as well, long black stripes all that remained of his last half hour's fun. "Fuck!" Ragnaroc grabbed Crona's shoulder, turning him face up. "Why isn't there a big black X on the brat's face?"_

_"The black blood only leaves black coloring in the first wounds that it is introduced to. After the host has been… infected, shall we say, it merely soaks in without leaving any markings."_

_He froze as her words soaked in. "Wait, infected? What the hell did you just have me put in myself?"_

_"Relax, fool. That was just a figure of speech. The black blood has no ill effects that I have seen in my other test subjects, other than black colored blood and the mark from the original entry."_

_"So why are you having us infected?"_

_Medusa gave him an innocent glance, gold eyes amused as she replied. "Because without the black blood's regenerative powers, I don't think that either of you would survive this. Nake Snake Cobra Cobera!"_

_Ragnaroc felt his blood twist and roil in his veins, his skin darkening as the black blood pushed the rest of his red blood out, the Weapon screaming as his skin was shredded and shoved off by the exiting rush of crimson. He continued to howl as his skeleton rubberized, his entire form only held together by the black blood and Medusa's magic. Ragnaroc shrieked in pure undiluted agony as what was left of him was forced into Crona's body, the unconscious boy doing a little pained moaning of his own as his skin was ripped open, the black blood in his body going to connect with the black blood figure that was Ragnaroc. Ragnaroc cried out in terror and pain as he felt himself dissolve into the black ooze, slowly being consumed back into Crona's small figure._

Ragnaroc shuddered at the memory of how the rude Ragnaroc had come to reside in Crona's bloodstream, the sheer horror of Medusa's actions leaving him physically ill every time he thought about it too long.

Crona had finished his shower by then, pulling on the white uniform that Stein had given him and rushing out the door to go and check on Maka's father before classes started. Crona trotted into the medical room, quietly closing the door behind him and walking over to the Death Scythe's bed. Ragnaroc hissed quietly as he saw the mass of bandages, Spirit looking like he was wrapped up tighter than the Kishin had been. Crona jumped and let out a soft squeak of surprise as a hand rested on his shoulder. He spun to see Stein standing behind him, clipboard in hand. "Crona, what are you doing here? I thought that you were going to check out the alley with the others."  
Ragnaroc shook his head in amusement as Crona stiffened, trying to think up a good excuse.

'I got sick, so- No, I definitely don't want to say that. Um… I got lost- That wouldn't work either. I've been living here too long to use that excuse. I-I… Oh, I can't tell Stein that Maka asked me to keep an eye on Spirit for her; I promised her that I wouldn't! But I don't know how to deal with lying, especially to an adult.'

"Here to see how Spirit's doing, hm?" Stein asked, gray eyes glinting behind his glasses. Crona stiffened further, worry that the crazy scientist had somehow guessed why he was here. "Spirit would probably be touched that someone cared. If you'd like to sit with him for a while, there's a chair over in that corner." Crona nodded enthusiastically, Ragnaroc chuckling at the timid Maister's overwhelming relief. The teen sat down and watched as Stein checked the various medical machines, marking notes down on the clipboard as he did so. Crona had to leave after a while to avoid being late for his first lesson, having gotten to the door when Stein's hand caught his shoulder again.

"Y-yes, professor?"

Stein gave him a small, genuine smile. "Don't worry about Spirit, he should be back to his womanizing ways in a matter of days. Weapons heal much faster than even Maisters do, and the fact that he's a Death Scythe only makes him heal that much quicker. He's going to be fine."

Crona nodded awkwardly, his hands wringing unconsciously as he stared at the floor. "Y-yeah."

Stein patted his shoulder once more before pulling out a cigarette and fiddling with it absently. "You should head on to class. I'll be there in a few moments; there are just a few more things I have to do here first."

Crona nodded again, walking down the hall until the sound of the door swinging shut behind him rang out through the passage, then he doubled back to peer through the glass. Stein was kneeling next to the bed, fists clenching the sheet on the bed tightly.

He appeared to be talking, Crona pushing the door open a crack to hear the soft words. "Hey, Spirit. I know that it's a scientific improbability that you can actually hear anything right now, and I don't normally talk to patients, but just this once…" The doctor sighed, head drooping wearily against his chest. "I really hate lying to the kids. Crona was right last night; you were admitted with over forty cuts, three broken ribs, twenty-seven burns, splintered wrists and one heck of a black eye. That isn't even counting the concussion and internal bleeding. While I understand that keeping the kids moral up right now is important, I've got a feeling that telling them just how dangerous whoever beat you up are would be a lot more helpful. I wish that you were awake to help me figure out what to do; you know when my madness is infecting my actions, but I suppose then I wouldn't need to tell them anything because you could tell Lord Death who attacked you."

Running a hand through his gray hair, Stein rested his head on the bed. "Damn it, Spirit, you need to hurry and wake up; there are so many people who are worried about you. Maka was in last night before the kids left, though she'd probably kill me if I ever mentioned it to you when you gain consciousness. Even Crona stopped by a few minutes ago, and that boy is terrified of me. Though to be honest, I think that the first time we met was after his mother had driven me completely insane, so I may not have been at my most friendly. Maybe he's afraid that I'm still holding a grudge against him for his actions or his mother's. In either case, it took a lot of courage to hang out in here with me, though I suspect that Maka may have talked him into keeping an eye on you while she's away." Stein chuckled softly into the fabric before pulling back and looking at the clock. "Hmm, it seems that I may end up being late. How hypocritical of me."

"Dumb ass." Rude Ragnaroc had apparently come out of his room while Ragnaroc was engrossed, making him jump as the comical black figure spoke. "He's gonna get caught, and then I'm going to have to listen to him blubber about 'not knowing how to deal' with whatever punishment he gets."

The rude Ragnaroc was able to hang out with Ragnaroc in what he called the 'mind room', but rude Ragnaroc was also able to go into a separate room or go out into the real world while Ragnaroc was sadly stuck in the one room.

Rude Ragnaroc rolled his eyes at Ragnaroc's silence and walked towards one of the walls, a door appearing as he got closer. Rude Ragnaroc yanked it open, storming into the swirling blackness that awaited him beyond the frame. A second later, the second half of the screen fizzed back to life, rude Ragnaroc popping Crona on the back of his head and hissing angrily, "Hey, moron! Get out of here before we get caught, unless you _want_ us to get expelled!" Crona flinched and nodded, skulking away silently towards the school room.

Ragnaroc looked towards the ceiling, waiting for his alter ego to get back. Sure enough, rude Ragnaroc fell into the room, bouncing slightly as he hit the floor.  
He strode back into his room, the grumpily dignified actions only looking comical from the four-foot tall boy, slamming his door hard enough that Ragnaroc heard a picture fall in rude Ragnoroc's room, curses exploding after the crash. Ragnaroc shook his head, laughing silently at his ruder self. Lately, the rude Ragnaroc hadn't been cruel as much as extremely grumpy towards Crona, though any mention of that would result in rude Ragnaroc storming out to pummel Crona mercilessly. Ragnaroc sighed in relief as Crona slid into his seat just as Stein entered the classroom, Crona safe for the moment thanks to the rude Ragnaroc.

"Sorry I'm late. Today's lesson will be on..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I always wondered what was up with Ragnaroc's skin, and this seemed like the best idea that I could come up with. By the way, for any who didn't guess, the two things that really bite about writing from Ragnaroc's view are; writing the screens in a semi-understandable manner, {don't think I succeeded, but oh well,}, and writing out rude Ragnaroc every time I bring him up. Ragnaroc is already a mouth-um, handful, to write without adding rude! But... overall I'm having fun. 
> 
> Today's recommendation; This is Halloween, HD 2014 version. This Soul Eater amv is with the original song from Nightmare Before Christmas, which in my opinion is better than the Marilyn Manson version.  
> Please review! Getting comments makes my day, and inspires me to update. Criticisms are appreciated up to the point of flames. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. The Healing Black Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnaroc's point of view. The memory of the first time the black blood healed Crona, followed by a short chat with rude Ragnaroc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ragnaroc sitting on a chair in the mind room. "Hey, Chess didn't feel like writing the opener today, so I was asked to say hi to all of you and do the Disclaimer." Waving cheerfully at readers. "So, hi to all of you-"  
> Rude Ragnaroc slamming the door of his room open. "Damn it, I told you to tell me when we were going to do this! You've probably fucked up the intro already."  
> Ragnaroc frowning, arms crossing. "If you'd like, you could tell the readers the Disclaimer."  
> Rude Ragnaroc sneering at readers. "Whatever. Chess doesn't own Soul Eater."  
> Ragnaroc raising eyebrows, surprised. "Very nice."  
> Rude Ragnaroc smirking and {probably} making an obscene gesture before stomping back into his room.  
> Ragnaroc sighs and shakes head, waving sheepishly at readers. "In any case, enjoy reading!"

Chapter Four  
_Ragnaroc was in a constricted state of being; unable to speak, see or move. Needless to say, he was freaking out. He remembered a lot of pain and his young Maister yelling hysterically, then he had just… not been for a while. When he began being again, he almost wondered if he was in a coma, wishing that he wasn’t quite so conscious. After what seemed like an eternity of inability to do anything, he felt himself moving through the air. Suddenly, Ragnaroc felt like he was being submerged into icy slime, thick gunk oozing over him. Then he was through, hitting very hard ground with a solid thunk, but he could see and hear again! Ragnaroc shot to his feet, his head whipping from side to side. He was in a fairly good-sized room, just the right temperature and furnished lavishly with comfortable furniture. A large screen took up the main area of the room, a button on the side with the word ‘ON’ inscribed beneath it. Ragnaroc approached the monitor warily, one hand tentatively reaching out to press the button. The screen flared to life, pictures flickering too fast to process, multiple voices blaring at once._  
_“Wake up, Crona. It’s time to start your training-“_  
_‘The fucking bitch melted me into this brat? What the-‘_  
_“Wh-what happened-“_  
_‘I don’t know how to deal with this-‘_  
_“Shut the fuck up, you little-“_  
_Ragnaroc sank to the floor, hands pressed over his ears. “Stop it!”_  
_“-at the hell happened to my skin? It’s all black and shiny-“_  
_‘Why is Ragnaroc so mean now? I don’t know how-‘_  
_“Don’t bother struggling, Crona -“_  
_“Hey! Will this hurt me too-“_  
_‘What’s going on? Wh-‘_  
_“Please!” Ragnaroc howled, his ears throbbing from all of the noise. “Stop it, please!”_  
_‘Hurts so bad-‘_  
_“Don’t, please… Not again-“_  
_“Crap… You damn bitch! Don’t you dare-“_  
_“AGGHHH!”_  
_“AGHHHH!”_  
_‘Pain…’_  
_‘H-hurts so bad…’_  
_Ragnaroc crumpled against the wall, feeling blood trickle out of his ears. “P-p-please…”_  
_“You two aren’t as strong as I thought you’d be… How disappointing.”_  
_“Make it stop-“_  
_“Why should-“_  
_“Fuck! Not again- AGGGH!”_  
_Ragnaroc began to lose consciousness, hands slipping away from his ears. The voices started to get softer, the images on the screen slowing slightly. He concentrated on separating them, somehow sensing that if he didn’t he would go through a very painful death. Gradually the images slowed down, the voices slowing to an understandable pace._  
_He staggered to his feet, a hand going to his aching head. Ragnaroc stumbled slightly as he walked to a chair, collapsing into the soft cushioning with a moan. “Well, that was fun.” He spoke to no one in particular, still half out of it. A shrill howl of pain brought his attention back to the screen, the images there instantly sickening him._  
_He was apparently seeing the same scene from two different views; one looking up at a woman that Ragnaroc knew that he knew… what was her name? M…m…Madeline? No, that wasn’t right. Mindy? No, that wasn’t it either. Then it hit him, along with a thick current of dread. “Medusa.”_  
_Medusa was looking back down at the first screen, gold eyes full of scientific curiosity. The second monitor showed both her and the very familiar form of a boy. “Crona!” Ragnaroc jumped from his seat, his hands slapping against the surface of the screen. “Oh man…” The toddler was wearing a dress, something that Ragnaroc would normally have been laughing his head off about, but now laughter was the farthest thing from his mind. “No-“ Crona was strapped down to a blood spattered table, black ooze dripping slowly from a multitude of wounds... Medusa tilted her head, a slight frown pulling the edges of her lips downward._  
_“You’re turning out to be quite the worthless Weapon, Ragnaroc. Heal your Maister!”_  
_Ragnaroc slammed his fists against the screen, tears trickling down his cheeks as she slashed another cut across Crona’s stomach, the little boy whimpering in pain but unable to move. “Don’t, please! I don’t know how to-“_  
_“How the hell am I supposed to heal him?!” Ragnaroc snarl was harsh and ragged with pain, but he hadn’t spoken, and he never cursed! Ragnaroc stepped back in confusion as Medusa answered the voice that sounded like his._  
_“Use the black blood, of course.”_  
_“H-how do I do that, huh?” the voice that sounded like his gasped, agony in every syllable._  
_Medusa smiled, tapping the black stained knife against her chin. “You have to want Crona’s wounds to heal. Otherwise, your own wounds will never seal either.”_  
_“Damn you,” in the screen that showed both Medusa and Crona, a black ball rose into view, attached to an arm-like appendage. The ball shook itself at Medusa, the witch merely smirking and driving the blade into Crona’s leg. Both Crona and the Ragnaroc voice screamed hoarsely, Ragnaroc’s other voice cursing up a storm. “SHIT! Fine! I'll try! Just… stop!”_  
_Half of the monitor went black, heavy breathing sounding in Ragnaroc’s room. Then the screen flashed back on, and the voice that both was and wasn’t his moaned. “I can’t. This little bastard is the reason that I’m even in this fucked up mess. Why would I ever want to help the little shit? In fact, I don’t even know why I’m still out here. Have fun killing your damn brat, Medusa.” The same half of the screen went into static, a freaky figure dropping out of the ceiling to land on the floor with a sharp thud. It was an almost comical figure of a boy, with raven black shiny skin that almost looked like spandex or something, hands and feet black balls without fingers or toes. A thick white X crossed over his face, the pupils of his bulging eyes small black X’s._  
_“Who are you?” They asked each other in unison, replying, “I’m Ragnaroc.” Both frowned. “No, I’m Ragnaroc!” Both were interrupted by a drawn-out agonized cry, Medusa’s face furious as she stabbed down over and over. The shiny black figure crumpled to the floor, odd face contorted with pain as black blood oozed from countless cuts on its body._  
_“Shit!” After a minute, it straightened slightly, glaring inhospitably at Ragnaroc. “Why the fuck is there another me in here?” It glanced around, flinching as another yelp sounded, one ball hand going to its arm. “What happened to my room? Though I gotta admit, the movie on is pretty entertaining.” It gasped out a chuckle as Crona let out a weak wet cough, Medusa finally having gotten tired of slashing her son. “Oh, there it is.”_  
_Ragnaroc turned to see an open door leading into his old bedroom; goth-styled pictures hanging up next to posters of scantily-clad women, a pair of boxing gloves hanging by the laces on the head board of his bed, piles of dark colored clothing scattered untidily on the floor. “Whoa. Where’d that come from? I could have sworn there wasn’t a door there before…” He walked towards the room, ignoring the thing that sounded like him as it warned him to stay the hell out of its room. As Ragnaroc went to pass through the door, the door slammed shut in his face, sending him reeling back a couple of steps. “What?”_  
_The weird black being giggled, the sound sending a chill up Ragnaroc’s spine. “Told you, that’s my room.”_  
_“No, it’s mine!”_  
_“Oh yeah? Prove it!”_  
_Ragnaroc scowled, thinking. “Well, behind the door there should be a chest of drawers, right?”_  
_“For that being 'your' room, you don’t sound so sure of yourself. But yeah, there is.”_  
_“The third drawer has a fake back, where I keep all of my most prized memories.”_  
_The figure stiffened, x eyes flicking up to him. “How the fuck?” Then it relaxed again, a small smirk on its face. “Oh… I get it now. You’re in my head, some damn side effect of that crap… the black blood. Of course you know what I do.”_  
_Ragnaroc glared at the figure. “It seems a lot more likely that you’re a figment of my imagination than the other way around. I mean, come on! Have you looked at yourself? You look like one of the things that I saw the first time I got drunk!”_  
_It stood slowly, staggering slightly as it walked towards him. “You know, I don’t know what you are, but I do know that I’m going to enjoy this.” Ragnaroc tipped his head in confusion, wondering what it was talking about, when it pulled back a black ball of a fist and socked him. The blow passed through his chest, but then there was a sizzle and bang, the two figures slamming into opposite walls. Ragnaroc sat up with a complaint on his lips, when memories began to slam into his head, sending him crashing to the floor. Pain. Betrayal. Hate. Agony. Fear. ‘Crona did this.’ ‘The little fuck!’ ‘Why did this happen?’ ‘My skin!’_  
_Ragnaroc looked at the figure’s black skin, bile rising in his throat. “You really are me-Ragnaroc, I mean. Medusa… she did this to you…”_  
_The other Ragnaroc laughed bitterly as he poked his smooth obsidian flesh. “Yeah. When she ripped my skin off, I guess the black blood had to replace it. And this?” tapping the thick white x between his eyes, “This was her way to mess with her darling son, the fact that it irritates the hell out of me just an added bonus.”_  
_Ragnaroc frowned. “Why are you so mad at Crona? He’s our Maister and-“_  
_“-and I don’t care! He’s the reason that I-no, we, are stuck like this!” Ragnaroc decided to call the other Ragnaroc the ‘rude’ Ragnaroc, or just Rude, for lack of a better name. Rude waved his arms at the room around them. “We’re stuck in the brat’s head! And I’m guessing that you can’t even get out like I can.”_  
_“That doesn’t matter! We should be trying to help him get away from that…woman. Look at what she did to him!” Ragnaroc’s eyes widened as he remembered something. “Wait, she said that you could help heal him.”_  
_Rude Ragnaroc scoffed, getting to his feet and brushing past Ragnaroc. “Fuck him, and if you want to help the little bastard, fuck you too.” Rude walked into his room, slamming the door behind him._  
_Ragnaroc ignored him, concentrating hard on Crona being whole again, no ugly slices or gashes streaking his skin. “Come on Fraterculus, don’t die on me here…”_  
_“Well, well, Ragnaroc. I thought that you were going to just let the boy die.” Medusa’s smug voice sounded in the room, her face appearing back on the half of the screen that wasn’t buzzing with static. “So it appears that you still cling to some feelings for Crona after all… how interesting. In any case, remember this.” She leaned over, gold eyes cold. “If you don’t keep Crona working as my weapon, I will utterly destroy you. Make sure that he turns into the perfect tool for me to exact my plans, or what happened to your skin will seem like a kiss on the cheek compared to what I will make you go through.”_  
Ragnaroc sat straight up in bed gasping for breath, heart pounding in his chest. “Shit!”  
A roar of laughter scared him further, making him twist to see who had laughed, still half asleep, only managing to fall out of his bed. “Nice, really.” The voice was very amused, cracking back up again as Ragnaroc blearily rubbed his eyes, waking up enough to realize that the voice belonged to Rude, his alter ego sat on one of the chairs in the room, still laughing at him.  
“Good afternoon to you too.” Ragnaroc grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. “I really don’t know what you find so funny about me falling out of bed.”  
“Well, while I do love slapstick humor, mostly I just think that your pathetic attempt at cursing is hilarious.” Rude Ragnaroc snickered, x eyes staring at him. “I thought that you ‘hate cursing, because it’s a vulgar habit that only crass people use’.” He cackled. “Ohhhh, perfect boy’s getting vulgar! I love this! Do it again?”  
Ragnaroc frowned at his other self as he sat down. “I don’t like cursing, and I’m not sure why one popped out. It might be that you’re starting to rub off on me.”  
Rude wiggled his eyebrows, twisting in his seat to lay with his legs over one of the armrests. “So, what prompted this sudden descent into ‘crass’ness?”  
Ragnaroc shifted, uncomfortable. He wished that they were playing a game that he and Crona used to play; one would ask the other a question, the other either answering and asking a question in return or passing and getting asked another question. He definitely would have passed that question. “I was dreaming about the first time I met you in here.”  
Rude’s chuckles cut off, the odd boy sitting back up in his chair properly. “Oh.” He shuddered slightly, one ball shaped hand unconsciously reaching up to touch the large white X on his face, a nervous tic of his that Ragnaroc had noticed. “’Shit’ doesn’t even half cover that fucked up day.”  
“I originally only got flashes of what was happening to you guys, but when you tried to punch me…” He shrugged wearily.  
“Yeah, I don’t get how you got my memories, but I’m pretty sure that they were damn well worse than any punch that I might have given you. Though not too much worse, after all, I have muscles of steel, you know.” Rude’s voice went from an uncustomary softness to his usual brash tone, flexing his no-longer-existent muscles. Ragnaroc smirked, remembering the major tantrum that had followed the confiscation of his collection of eaten souls. Rude had gone on a nonstop cursing spree, smashing everything he could; which hadn’t been too much considering the fact that the formerly towering buff man had shrunk back into a skinny kid. However, one of the nice things about being stuck in Crona's head was that everything that Rude broke just fixed itself a couple of seconds after it was broken.  
Fortunately, after about a week of sulking, Rude had begun to calm down, curse and abuse Crona less, and generally became a slightly nicer guy. “So, what was the worst memory that I gave you that day?” Rude Ragnaroc studied him, x eyes curious.  
“You probably don’t want to know.”  
“Actually, I do.” Rude’s voice was earnest, another rarity. He leaned forward in his seat, arms resting on his knees. “P-please?” That word never EVER came out of Rude’s mouth, so Ragnaroc just sat there, stunned for a moment. Then he sighed deeply and sagged into his chair, Rude smirking slightly; both knowing that Ragnaroc had just given up.  
“Fine. The memory that I thought was the worst was when Medusa had you…‘infect’, Crona and yourself with the black blood.” Ragnaroc skipped over the proceeding torture of Crona and Rude’s forced exchange of his skin for the black blood.  
Rude flinched, that period of time obviously still a raw memory. “Oh.” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m being real fucking articulate today, huh? Yeah, not my best day.” Rude stood and walked back to his room in a daze, not even slamming the door. Ragnaroc sighed again, feeling bad for upsetting his companion.  
“I told you that you probably didn’t want to hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Rude Ragnaroc now has a shorter name! I apologize for any confusion still surrounding the 'screens', but that is the clearest that I could get on them.  
> Writing in all of those emphasis marks at the beginning of the paragraphs and the ends was driving me INSANE! {sigh......}  
> Anyway, please comment, I really want to know what you think. Criticism would be appreciated, up to the point of flames. Thanks for reading!


	5. Bullies and Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crona is bullied, Rude remembers a very close call, and both share a touching moment. Oh, and there is Crona/Maka in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being sick bites. Seriously, and my symptoms aren't even all that harsh, either. I've got a persistent cough, due to a glob of phlegm that sticks right at the base of my throat, giving me a sore throat. Over all, yeah. Not happy right now. Sadly for my characters, I'm taking out my sickness-related stress on them. {Poor Crona.}  
>  I don't own Soul Eater.   
> All sarcastic people out there; NO... REALLY?!  
> To all sarcastic people out there... MAKA, CHOP THEM! BWAHAHAHA!

Chapter Five   
After his unsatisfying talk with Rude, Ragnaroc growled once in frustration before sighing and turning his attention back to the screen, having neglected to pay much attention to what the timid Maister was doing. Crona was just about to get out of class and head back to sit with Spirit some more, even though he was practically falling asleep on his feet. Ragnaroc nodded in approval as Crona’s memory of sitting with Spirit after his lunch break slipped into his mind. “Fraterculus, you are one nice kid.” The nickname flowed easily off of his tongue, making him suspect that it was something he had said a lot before, though he couldn’t remember what it meant or why it seemed to fit Crona so well.   
Crona walked into the hall, shoulders hunched miserably as kids pushed around him, the swell of Maisters and Weapons a mass of arms, hands, backpacks, and books. ‘I really can’t deal with this many kids!’ Ragnaroc heard Crona think, the tall boy slipping into the deserted music classroom. Crona sat down on a bench, deciding to rest while he waited for the halls to clear. He had just dropped off to sleep; the screen that showed what he saw black while the screen showing his thoughts was going through a good dream. Crona and his friends were sitting out in the forest, enjoying a picnic made by Maka and Tsubaki. Suddenly his other friends decided to go play catch further on in the woods, leaving him and Maka alone. He was sitting there enjoying the silence, the warmth that Maka always seemed to exude making him feel happy and safe. So much so in fact that Crona spoke impulsively, his tongue acting of its own accord. “Hey Maka?”  
She turned to him, green eyes sparkling. “Yes?”  
“I love you.” The instant that the words left his lips Crona cringed and hung his head, waiting for a Maka-chop and a lecture on how all men were cheaters, even pitiful wimps like him. Instead he felt gloved fingers pushing his chin up, soft lips closing on his. Crona’s eyes bugged out, his entire body going stiff. Maka pulled away, smiling in that kind way of hers.   
“I love you too, Crona.” She leaned back in, Crona squeaking in shock as she kissed him for a second time. The world stood still for the Maisters, Crona slowly relaxing and returning the kiss after a moment. Maka smiled into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck…  
Ragnaroc was torn between being touched and feeling embarrassed for watching this obviously personal moment. Rude on the other hand was looking torn between laughing or throwing up, the comical looking boy having come out of his room a minute ago. “Wow. That brat has some pathetic dreams about women. For one, his dream girl is flat girlie? How sad. For two, she’s still got all her clothes on. Hey Crona,” Rude shouted at the screen where Crona and Maka were still kissing. “If you’re gonna just kiss, at least use some tongue, you dweeb! This is the closest to porn that I can watch right now, seeing as I don’t get internet in your head and you turn into a tomato anytime I try to get you to look it up for me.”  
Ragnaroc looked at his alter ego, a mixture of disgust and amusement on his face. “You know that he’s fifteen, right?”  
“So?” Rude shrugged, plopping onto a chair. “Doesn’t mean you can’t…“ he began making lewd gestures, Ragnaroc chuckling softly at his antics.  
Turning his attention back to the screen, he saw that they were still kissing. Crona had just gotten up the courage to put his arms around Maka when he was violently woken up, the screen showing what he saw flashing back to life. Crona had been thrown to the floor, four kids standing over him. They were all older, three boys and one girl, and were Maister and Weapon pairs. They were also some of the nastiest bullies that Crona had been running into. The girl and one of the boys pulled him up, holding him up and in place. “You killer. You shouldn’t be here; no one wants you. Those so called friends of yours may be fooled by your pathetic little act of innocence, but we’re not. Let’s go.” The last two words were directed at the other boy, who nodded and closed his eyes, changing into a long metal baton. The talker grabbed the Weapon, hefting him experimentally before smashing the end into Crona’s stomach. Crona gasped in pain, the black blood only guarding him against things that broke the skin. The bullies had learned early on that as long as they only beat him, he was powerless to defend himself. The talker smashed the baton against him a few more times before opting to use his fists. SLAM… A fist slammed into his face. WHAM-WHAM-WHAM! The boy cracked a flurry of punches into his stomach, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat off of his forehead. Crona coughed, feeling blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth. The boy sneered, running a finger through the slow-moving trail, showing the black-tipped digit to his friends. “He’s not human, not with blood like this.”   
Inside Crona’s mind, Rude was barely managing to keep from ripping out to kill the bullies, Ragnaroc just as angry if not more so. However, both knew that in the past when Rude came out the bullies would just increase the strength of their blows, making it more helpful to stay inside his mind and wait, rather than coming out and aggravating the situation. Neither liked it, Ragnaroc’s hands bleeding from where his fingernails were digging into his skin, Rude cursing under his breath, x pupils rolling madly in their sockets, but they stayed put.  
One of the other boys grinned savagely, teeth bared. “Who knows, maybe he’s not a he…” The others laughed as Crona began to struggle pointlessly, not knowing what was coming next but being sure that he wouldn’t like it. “What’s wrong, thing? Are you scared?”   
The first talker smirked. “You should be, you monster.” He tapped the baton, which turned back into the fourth boy. “Hey, you wanna finally find out what gender this freak actually is?”  
The Weapon nodded, cracking his knuckles eagerly. “Let’s do it.” The first boy took out a pocketknife, using it to slice through the stitches that ran down the front of Crona’s shirt. As it fell down his shoulders, the assembled bullies gasped. “Well, well. What are these, huh? Marks to let the Kishin envelop your mind? Well?” He poked one of the stripes on Crona’s stomach hard, making Crona flinch. “In any case, it looks like you’re male, if not masculine.” The boy laughed at his own bad joke, the others joining in as he slammed an elbow into Crona’s chest. Crona gagged and spat out another wad of black blood, the boy cursing and backhanding him as some of the ink black liquid landed on the boy’s jeans.   
“Doesn’t matter. You know, the freak might just be flat-chested.” The girl spoke up for the first time, her grip on his arm tightening painfully.   
“That’s right, that Maister… Maka, right? Well, Maka’s flat as a board, but she’s definitely a girl.” This boy leered suggestively, howling in laughter as Crona tensed in anger. “What’s the matter, monster? You got your eye on her? I personally prefer girls with more of a figure.” He moved his hands in the form of a figure glass, demonstrating what he was talking about. “Anyway, they’re right, monster here might just be a flatty.”   
“Only one thing to do.” The first speaker grabbed Crona’s pants, yanking them and his underwear down. “Hmph. All right, you may be a boy, but you’re mostly a monstrous freak.” He nodded at the kids holding his arms, the two tying his wrists together with some twine. One of the boys shoved a sock into Crona’s mouth, muffling his soft yelp of pain and fear. “Nothing will change that, no matter what the headmaster says. When your ‘friends’ see all of these,” running the pocketknife over a few of the black slashes on Crona’s torso, “maybe then they’ll finally realize that all you are is a freak.”   
“In you go, freak.” His attackers shoved him into the music room’s baby grand piano, the lid slamming shut over him. Crona’s breathing grew ragged, having developed a severe fear of the dark after being locked in a pitch black room by his mother for the better part of his young life. “Have fun ‘till tomorrow, you monster.” Laughter accompanied the words, the door to the music room clicking shut. Crona was shaking now with a mix of fear, pain and adrenaline in the jet-black enclosed space, his bare body pressed uncomfortably against the cold hammers of the piano.   
“Fuck.” Rude disappeared through the door, the boy’s view appearing on the screen. Rude pushed against the lid, cursing at Crona until the quivering boy helped, the top finally swinging up. Ragnaroc watched as Rude changed momentarily into his sword form, somehow managing to slice through the boy’s bonds without Crona’s help. Crona curled up into a shivering ball when he could move, removing the balled up sock from his mouth. “Come on, get up, you pathetic wuss! Up. UP!”   
“R-Ragnaroc, why do I exist?” Crona’s voice was so quiet that the fuming black figure almost missed it, still ranting at him to get the hell up. “I only ruin people’s lives, no matter what I do.”  
“Shit, Crona! Don’t get even more pathetic on me!” Rude spoke harshly, but his thoughts were worried, remembering the last time that Crona had talked like this.  
_“How disappointing.” Medusa said coldly, frowning in disgust as she beheld the grim sight in front of her. A man hung from chains attached to the walls, his head barely attached to his body. Blood was spattered everywhere, including on Crona’s dress and face, the demon sword held in one fist. A glowing red ball of light hung in the air in front of the messy corpse, Rude shifting back from his sword form to the muscular torso of a man. He snatched the soul from midair, gulping it down greedily._   
_“What are you talking about? We killed the bastard, right? That’s what you wanted us to do.”_  
_“I wanted you to break him, not destroy him. Kyle had valuable information on Arachnophobia’s actions, something that I was planning on utilizing. Now I have to find another Arachnophobia agent.” Medusa frowned darkly, clenching one fist. “Crona, go to your room.”_  
_“Yes, Lady Medusa.” Crona nodded numbly, his feet plodding as he walked back into his cell. A moment later the door slammed shut, leaving them in utter darkness._  
_“Damn it Crona!” Rude fumed, cracking a fist against his Maister’s head. “You’re supposed to remember things like that! Now we’re stuck in here again, and she probably won’t send in dinner… again. Fuck you! If I wasn’t stuck with you, my life would be so much better!”_  
_“What?” Crona’s voice quivered and cracked, the young boy starting to shake with silent tears._   
_“Hell yeah! I’m strong, I’m handsome, I’m powerful, there’s not much that I couldn’t do if I weren’t loaded down with you. You’re such a fucking pain in my ass, Crona.”_  
_“Y-you’re right.” Rude stiffened, surprised. Then he grinned nastily, leaning on the crying boy._   
_“That’s one of the smartest things that I’ve ever heard you say, twerp.”_  
_“I just hurt everyone that I meet.” Crona spoke in between sobs, his tone full of despair. “I hurt you, I hurt all the animals that Lady Medusa tells me to, I hurt the people that do bad things, I hurt the people who do good things, I hurt that man out there even worse than I needed to, and by doing that, I hurt Lady Medusa. But you know what the worst part is?”_  
_“You bitching to me about your sorry life?” Rude suggested helpfully, snickering as he gave Crona’s pale violet hair a sharp yank._   
_“The worst part is that I’m starting to enjoy hurting them. Wh...what kind of person am I that I enjoy hurting others?” Crona’s voice had gone dead, the gasping sobs that he was making sounding empty. “I’m a monster…” There was a sick sounding rip, Crona whimpering quietly. Rude howled in pain, holding his stomach._  
_“Wh-what the hell did you just do, Crona?” Rude gasped, agony sending white spots through his vision._  
_“I’m dealing with myself.” Crona chuckled, the sound insane. “That’s what you always told me to do, remember? Deal with my problems head on, instead of running away from them. I’ve been getting pretty good with it too, the only problem that I hadn’t dealt with being me. But I’ve fixed that n-“ Crona’s mad speech was cut off as the boy gagged, Rude feeling his smaller body convulsing. Crona began to laugh wetly, the crazy giggles gargled slightly. “Good night, Crona sleeps tight, everyone will be safe tonight…”_  
_“Damn the little bastard!” Rude snarled, feeling the boy begin to go limp. “Gave in to Raven’s insanity…” He let himself slip back into the room in Crona’s mind, landing easily and running over to the bed where the nicety-nice Ragnaroc slept. Rude ignored the shadow door that creaked open invitingly beside the one that led into his room, yelling, “Wake up, you son of a bitch!” The teen fell off of his bed, Rude grabbing the collar of his shirt and shaking him awake. “Fucking brat’s trying to kill us, and you’re taking a damn nap?” The other Ragnaroc quickly caught on, his gaze turning horrified as he saw the weeping wound slashed across Rude’s waist, closing his eyes and concentrating. Rude grimaced at the mad thoughts blaring into the room, slowly petering off as Crona fainted from the loss of blood. He then sighed in relief as the stabbing pain across his stomach subsided and disappeared, black blood healing the Maister and Weapon’s injury._  
_“What did he do?” The other Ragnaroc asked, staggering to a nearby chair and collapsing on it, the teen’s face white from the effort of directing the black blood. “Crona didn’t use you, did he?”_  
_“You really think that I’d let the idiot do this to me?” Rude snarled, punching a hole in the wall that quickly repaired itself. “Fucking asshole.” He stormed through the door that appeared on the wall, stepping into the black ooze. Rude stretched his arms up, feeling them break through into the air, the rest of him following along after. Just as he had finished emerging from Crona’s back, the door to their cell cracked open, light flooding the room._  
_“You’re extremely lucky, Crona. I’ve found another Arachnophobia agent for you to question. If you do a good enough job, then I might just let you have dinner tonight-“ Medusa broke off, seeing her son’s unconscious form, Rude…standing?... over him. “My, my. What happened here, Ragnaroc? I believe that I told you that if you kill Crona, you die too.”_  
_“Hey, I didn’t do this, lady. Crona did this all by himself.” Rude defended himself, crossing his arms huffily._  
_“Really?” Medusa’s voice didn’t sound convinced, but she shrugged. “All right, I’ll play along. What brought on this little… ‘suicide’ attempt?”_   
_“I’m serious!” Rude caught sight of a dripping black metal knife dangling from Crona’s limp fingers. “Look, he’s still got the damn blade!”_  
_Medusa calmly strolled in, not appearing to notice as she stepped in the pool of Crona’s blood, crouching next to his unmoving figure. “How interesting. Did he say anything about why he would kill himself?” She sounded just… interested, as though she was speaking of a puppy that had disobeyed her._   
_“Um… I guess. The brat was freaking out about hurting people, he said something about ‘dealing with himself’.”_  
_Medusa scowled, the most expressive thing she had shown over the entire episode. “That was something you always used to tell him, if I’m not mistaken. It was getting a little nauseating. ‘If you deal with your problems before they grow, then they’ll be a lot easier to overcome.’ That was a rough quote, but it captures the main gist.” She straightened, flipping her hood up. “So, he’s trying to ‘fix’ himself, hmm? I can’t have that…” Rude shivered as her icy voice slipped towards him, her snakes wrapping tightly around Rude’s arms pinning them to his sides. “Make sure that he’s never able to ‘deal’ with anything again, especially suicide, understand?”_   
_When Rude didn’t respond, Medusa stepped up beside him and sweetly cupped his face in her hand. The snake tattoo coiled around her upper arm wriggled to life, slithering up to hiss in his face, huge fangs glistening dangerously. “Do you understand, Ragnaroc?”_  
_“Y-y-yeah, Lady Medusa…” Rude stuttered, frozen with fear. He had been bitten by this snake once before, both him and Crona left writhing in agony on the floor while Medusa watched in silent amusement. She had eventually given them an antidote, Crona whimpering about some white rat as she did so, but Rude had never forgotten how much pain the venom dripping down that snake’s fangs could inflict._  
_“Good.”_  
Ragnaroc heard Rude sigh, the comical figure’s thin shoulders sagging. “Hey, Crona. I’m only gonna say this once, so you’d better listen up and never tell anyone I said this. There are a lot of people that are better off because of you.”   
Crona jerked in surprise, his sad silver eyes glancing up at his companion. Inside his mind, Ragnaroc was having a similar reaction as he heard the ‘rude’ Ragnaroc talk.   
“For one, there’s that girl that you’re so in love with; if you hadn’t helped her, that chainsaw guy would have cut her into little chunks. Then you almost died saving her again, standing up against your fucked up mom who you’re still scared stiff of. Before that, you…” Rude scowled at the floor, one hand going to the back of his head. “You saved me, remember? Even though doing that basically made you Medusa’s puppet.” Crona flinched at his mother’s name, hands rubbing his upper arms. “Do you really think that those kids you hang out with would stick around if they didn’t like you? Keep coming back time after time if they only pitied you? People who pity others make excuses to stay as far away from the people they pity as possible.”   
Ragnaroc folded his arms, glaring at Crona. “So in other words, get your bare ass out of the damn piano and put your pants back on! You can feel just as sorry for yourself in your room as in here. Actually,” knocking on Crona’s head, “isn’t there somewhere that you’re supposed to be right now? Wouldn’t it suck if Spirit’s attackers got in and killed him because you were in here sulking?”  
Crona nodded, pulling himself up with a whispered, “Thanks, Ragnaroc.” After pulling his uniform back on, having to tuck the overlapping front of the shirt into his pants to keep from showing the school the black marks slashing up his torso, he walked to the hospital ward. Sitting down next to Spirit’s bed, Crona stayed there long enough that he fell asleep, drool oozing down from his mouth. Stein walked in, halting as he saw the sleeping boy, Rude having leaned against the wall to keep an eye on both Spirit and Crona. Stein left for a minute, returning with a sheet which he draped over Crona, a soft smirk on his face. Stein then pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed and sat with Rude, the two almost enjoying the silence and calm of the moment. Ragnaroc smiled, happy that his tortured Maister was relaxed for this moment at least, once again dreaming of friends… Ragnaroc included this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Crona. His first really true Crona/Maka moment, and it ends up getting stuck in a dream. Not to mention the whole suicidal tendency, and the asinine bullies he has to put up with.  
> Crona; I-I don't think that I know how to deal with your story, Chess.  
> Chess; Deal with it. 
> 
> Today's amv favorite; Poor Unfortunate Souls by LenLe92. Other than the few brief flashes of some other anime, it is awesome!   
> Comments are highly anticipated, highly appreciated, and highly desired. Criticism would be great too, up to the point of flames. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Raven and Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona is being plagued by insanity, and a figure from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being sick still stinks, amazingly enough. Now my nose seems to enjoy running away from me, and that's not fun. {Sigh...}  
> I don't own Soul Eater.

About a week after Maka and the others had left; Crona was sitting in his room, sewing the thick stitches back across his shirt, repairing the damages that the bullies had wrought on his uniform top. He had just finished and was pulling it on when a polite rap sounded on his door, Miss Marie peeking in a minute later. “Good morning Crona… Oh, dear!”  
The startled gasp was due to the assembly of bruises spread over Crona’s face, a motley of purples, blues and black. Crona flinched and brought a hand up to his face, briefly touching the painful mass of bruised skin. “I-I fell down the main staircase.”   
Miss Marie sounded concerned. “Did you go see Stein?”  
Crona shook his head, wincing at the momentary headache the quick movement produced. “No, really I’ll be fine. I’m just clumsy, always tripping over my own feet.” He giggled, feeling a spurt of insanity run through him, leaving him light headed. “Wh-what did you want to talk to me about?”  
Miss Marie frowned in confusion, then he face lit up and she beamed at him. “Would you mind helping me get to my classroom? I’ve been trying to get there for the last half hour or so, and I know that your room isn’t anywhere near it.”   
“Sure.” Crona spoke softly, a hand rubbing his arm absently. “I’ll be out in a minute.”  
“Alright, thank you!” The door clicked shut again, and Crona slumped into his chair. While he enjoyed talking to Miss Marie, he was still plagued with guilt over giving her one of Lady Medusa’s snakes, not to mention that he had been feeling stiff and very sensitive due to his beating a few days ago. Speaking of which… Crona lifted the bottom of his shirt, looking at the dark spots against his pale skin, the bruises splotched around the almost tattoo-like black slices. He sighed and let the fabric fall, getting to his feet with a stifled groan as his entire body complained. Another gush of madness ran through his body, Crona ignoring it as best he could. He grabbed his school notebooks and headed out to where Miss Marie was starting to walk down the hall in the wrong direction.   
“M-miss Marie, the class is th-that way.”  
“Oh, that’s right.” She smiled sheepishly and headed off down the right hall, Crona trotting along behind her and gently guiding her along the correct path. They quickly reached Miss Marie’s office, Crona bidding her goodbye as he walked over to the medical room to check in on Spirit. When he got there, Spirit was actually awake for the first time, sitting up in his bed and talking with Stien.  
“No, like I’ve been telling you for the last ten minutes, I don’t remember who beat me up, so-“ Spirit cut off, noticing Crona for the first time. “Damn, kid. Whose fists did you run into? You look about as bad as I do.”  
Stein’s glasses caught the light, flashing a beam into Crona’s eyes. “A-actually, I just fell down the stairs.” Crona lied again, hiding yet another twinge of insanity. Great, that was just what he needed right now, to be going crazy on top of having to deal with the rest of his life.  
“Yeah, I’m sure that that’s what happened to me, too.” Spirit joked, winking at Crona cheerfully. His expression changed to one of dreamy worry. “Hey, do you know where my darling Maka is? You’d think that she’d look in on her old man.” Spirit grimaced. “Well, not old…you know what I mean.”  
“She’s looking into your attack.” Stein answered him, Crona sighing in relief that he didn’t have to talk too much to Maka’s dad.   
“My baby girl is worried about me?” Spirit asked hopefully, perking up at the very thought.  
“Actually, Lord Death asked her to.” Stein said, deadpan as Spirit wilted back into his pillow.   
“MAKAAAA! Why don’t you love meeeee?” he wailed, sounding heartbroken. “Wait, what do you mean, she’s looking into my attack?”  
“Lord Death sent them back to the place where you were found to see if their younger eyes could find anything that we couldn’t.” The stench of tobacco was strong as Stein lit up, taking a deep drag before huffing out a gray cloud.   
Spirit gabbed the lapel of Stein’s lab coat, yanking the doctor towards him. “Get her back here now! If whoever attacked me was able to defeat a grown Death Scythe, they shouldn’t have too much trouble with my sweet little girl, no matter how tough she is!”  
“Kid, Liz, Patty, Black Star, Tsubaki and Soul are with her, they should be fine.”   
“No, you have to get them back here NOW!” Spirit growled, trying to get up but only managing to fall out of the bed, grimacing in pain.  
Crona stepped forward to help Stein pick Spirit up and place him back on the bed. “Thank you, Crona. Would you mind going and telling Lord Death that Spirit’s up, and that I’ll be coming by his office in a half an hour?”  
“A-alright.” Crona started on the journey to the headmaster’s office, feet dragging as he walked. Someone accidentally bumped into him, their arm hitting one of his worst bruises. Crona hissed as pain and insanity clawed their way through him, hand in hand. “Raven, stop!” He staggered into the boy’s restroom, turning the water on cold and sticking his head under the flow. When he had sufficiently cooled off, he straightened and turned to leave, happening to glance into the mirror and freezing in shock.  
A thick darkness stood behind him, shaped into the vague figure of a teen. It had a wide grin cut out of the shadow face, blank eyes staring at him. “Hello, Crona. Ready to answer some questions yet?”   
Crona walked forward, spinning to see... nothing. The room was empty and brightly lit. He looked back into the mirror in time to see the shadow’s hand reaching for him. He jumped to the side, avoiding the arm. “N-no, go away!”  
Its grin widened, the crescent stretching across the blackness. “That’s the first question that you’ve answered for a long time. I’m impressed.” Crona paled, eyes darting to the door. “Go ahead, I can wait.” Its smile turned sad, eyes closing momentarily. “You may not have turned into a second Kishin, but his insanity has infected you and made me stronger. I’ll always be here to help you, Crona. Just let me know when you’re ready to play.”   
Crona dashed for the door, slamming it shut behind him.   
‘Let me know when you’re ready to play.’   
The phrase pounded through his mind again and again, the madness holding back for now. As Crona half-ran to Lord Death’s office, the first time that he had met Raven running through his head.   
_Crona sat in Ragnaroc’s room, lying back on the older boy’s black sheeted bed. He looked up at the ceiling, where a few posters of naked women had been tacked up, promptly sitting back up and wishing that he hadn’t seen them. “Really, Ragnaroc?” Toddler Crona hopped back off of the bed, walking over to a hamper in the corner. It was stuffed with black, gray and red clothes, a few magazines sticking out at odd angles. Crona dug around in the mound for a while before finding what he was looking for; a huge black hoodie with a silver dragon design on the back… Ragnaroc’s favorite shirt. Crona pulled it on, the smell of deodorant and peppermint flooding his nose. Crona hugged himself, tears trickling down his cheeks as he breathed in the scents. “Mom- I mean Lady Medusa, said she can fix you, but all she’s been doing is having me hurt people. If that’s what it takes, then I don’t really have a choice, though I know you always tell me to only hurt people in self defense.”_  
_He pulled the hood over his head, the top flopping over his face. “Do you want to play a game?”_  
_Crona pushed the hood up so that he could see, looking around the room for the owner of the voice. “Who’s there?”_  
_“What game do you want to play?”_  
_“Um… There’s a game that someone I know made up, could we play that?”_  
_“Sure! What are the rules?”_  
_“One person asks a question, then the other person can either answer or pass. If you answer, then you can ask the other person a question, but if you pass, then they can ask you a question. You can’t ask the same question twice, and once twenty-five questions have been asked then the game is over.”_  
_“Sounds fun.”_  
_“Yeah, it is. Do you wanna go first?”_  
_“Sure.” Its grin widened. “It’s too late, though. You just went first, and I answered… so that’s twenty-four left to go. Are you happy?”_  
_“No. Twenty-three. What’s your name?”_  
_“You can call me Raven. Twenty-two. Why aren’t you happy?”_  
_“I don’t like hurting people, but I have to. Twenty-one. Why are you in my shadow?”_  
_“I don’t know. Twenty. Would you like to not have to feel sad every time you hurt someone?”_  
_“Yes, and no. Nineteen. Are you always in my shadow?”_  
_“No. Eighteen. What do you mean, yes and no?”_  
_“Yes, I hate being sad all of the time, but no, Ragnaroc always says that feeling bad about hurting others is good. Seventeen. Where do you go when you aren’t in my shadow?”_  
_“Nowhere in particular. Sixteen. Who’s Ragnaroc?”_  
_“Pass. Fifteen.”_  
_“Is this Ragnaroc’s room?”_  
_“Yes. Fourteen. Why did you want to know if I didn’t want to be sad about hurting people?”_  
_“Because, I can help protect your mind from any horror that you want me to, if you wanted me to. Thirteen. Is Ragnaroc the person who made up this game?”_  
_“Yes. Twelve. How would you do that?”_  
_“By melding with your shadow a little more firmly and becoming a part of your mind, taking all the scary stuff on myself instead of you having to accept it. Eleven. Do you care about Ragnaroc?”_  
_“Yes. Ten. Would you go away if I wanted you to?”_  
_“Yes. Nine. Is Ragnaroc in trouble?”_  
_“Yes. Eight. Would there be any rules to what you want to do?”_  
_“Yes. Seven. Do you have to hurt others to help Ragnaroc?”_  
_“Yes. Six. What are the rules?”_  
_“Once you do let me into your head, you can’t push me out without my consent. When you want me to leave, we’ll play this game in your mind. Once the game has finished, I’ll leave you alone. When you want me to come back and help you again, let me know that you want to play again. When I’m in your mind, as long as you stay out of my area, I’ll stay out of yours. Five. Why do you have to hurt others to help Ragnaroc?”_  
_“Because Lady Medusa needs parts of them and their souls to fix Ragnaroc. Four. Why do you want to help me?”_  
_“Because I am part of your identity, and when you hurt, I hurt. Three. What’s wrong with Ragnaroc?”_  
_“I-I hurt…pass. Two.”_  
_“Would you do anything to help fix him?”_  
_“Yes. One. What do I have to do for you for you to help me?”_  
_“Nothing. All I want to do is help you and have fun, that’s it. Last question. Do you want my help?”_  
_Crona hesitated, small hand pressed up against the black fabric of the hoodie. Then he squared his shoulders and nodded, silently apologizing to Ragnaroc. “Yes.”_  
_The shadow smiled, pointing to the mirror. “Go look in the mirror, please.” Crona obeyed, gasping as he saw a black shape take form behind him, still with the same expression as his shadow. “Take my hand, and you won’t have to hurt any more over hurting others until you want to again.” Crona reached a tentative hand out behind him, the figure not making any moves away or towards him. When their hands touched, Crona flinched as the figure almost seemed to be sucked into him, darkness soaking into his skin._  
_Crona turned to look at his shadow, then promptly lost consciousness, falling to the floor._  
_The next thing he knew, he was on a beach, waves lapping at the sand. A shadow copy of him sat next to him, admiring the view. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Do you want to stay here and play for a while, or do you want to go back and get back to work?”_   
_“How did we get here?”_  
_“We're not actually here, this is just in your head. This is one of your most comforting memories, so I chose this place to be our play area.”_  
_“I-I do have to get back.” Crona said reluctantly, running a hand through the tiny grains of sand._  
_“Okay, I’m going to walk into you, so don’t freak out.” The shadow did just that, Crona shivering as a rush of euphoria flooded him._   
_A grin cracked across his face, a giggle escaping his lips as he stood up in Ragnaroc’s room, skipping out. Down the hall, he ran into Lady Medusa. “There you are. I have another soul that I need collected.”_  
_“Okey dokey.” Crona grinned wider, the prospect of sinking a blade into someone appealing. Medusa blinked in surprise, making Crona giggle again. “You look silly when you do that, Mom.”_  
_Medusa scowled. “Vector Arrow!” An arrow pierced Crona’s left arm, going straight through to sink into the wall behind him. “I told you to never call me that.”_  
_“Sor-ry.” Crona said, giggling at how his blood was running down the arrow. “My blood is red, like tomatoes!”_  
_“Go.” The arrow disappeared, vanishing from in his wound, and Crona stuck his finger in the hole it left._   
_“My finger goes all the way through!”_  
_“GO!”_  
_Crona staggered into the room, feeling light headed with glee. A giant of a man was chained to the wall by his ankle, his fists the size of bowling balls. “Hello!”_  
_“Kid, get me the key over there!” the giant pleaded, pointing at a key set just outside of the man’s reach on a table covered with various torturous devises._  
_“Nope!” Crona walked over to the table, picking up a long dagger before skipping towards the man. “I’m supposed to kill you, you know.”_  
_“Look, kid. I don’t fight little boys, only big ones.” The giant looked amused as Crona continued forward, the amusement vanishing as Crona buried the blade into a muscle in his leg. The huge man fell to his hands and knees, Crona jumping onto his back and sinking the dagger behind the right shoulder blade. After another hour or so of pained screams from the giant, cackling giggles from the demented boy, and the occasional plea for mercy, Crona raised the knife almost sadly to deliver the final blow. As the blade struck home, Crona looked at himself. His gray trousers were soaked in blood, crimson smearing his hands and face, but what temporarily shocked him out of his insanity was the scarlet that oozed from Ragnaroc’s hoodie, the comfortingly familiar smell of peppermint and deodorant having been covered by the sickly copper stench of blood._  
_He toppled to the floor again, falling onto the corpse of the giant man._   
_“I don’t like this, I want you to leave me alone.” Crona informed his shadowy companion, cringing at the sight of the dark red crimson droplets plopping onto the flawless golden grains of sand. Raven frowned, plopping onto the sandy shores._   
_“That’s a lie. You were having just as much fun as I was, because I am you. If I was having fun, so were you. Just because you don’t like that fact doesn’t mean you can just ignore me.”_  
_“I don’t want to do that ever again!”_  
_Raven got to his feet, scowling. “LIER! You want it so much you’re shaking. Not having to feel empathy for that man felt great! Admit it! If you do, I’ll leave without us having to play the game this once.”_  
_Crona hugged himself, whimpering as scarlet dripped from the sweatshirt as he did so. “I told you earlier that I hated feeling sad every time Lady Medusa needs a part of someone else and has me get it, but we just did went from not feeling bad to being crazily happy about hurting him!”_  
_Raven sighed, its anger draining away. “Are you sure that you don’t want my help any more right now?”_  
_“Yes! I don’t ever want to see you again!”_  
_“Lier. But don’t worry, I’ll always be here when you need me, especially when you’re in pain. Bye for now, Crona. Insanity awaits…” Raven walked into the water, dissolving as it did so until there was nothing left of it._   
_Crona sat up, rubbing his head in pain and grimacing in disgust as he smeared more blood onto his already crimson forehead. “This was very well done, Crona. I’m impressed. In fact, I think that this should be the last soul that I need to fix Ragnaroc, so you two shall be reunited soon.” Medusa was standing in the doorway, golden eyes crinkling as she smiled at him. “Aren’t you happy?”_  
_Crona nodded, smiling in relief back up at her. “Thank you, Lady Medusa.”_  
_She turned and left, the door closing behind her. When it had clicked shut, a voice whispered, “Let me know when you want to play, Crona.”_  
Crona shook his head, banishing the memory as he walked under the guillotine arches of the hall leading to the headmaster’s office. When he finally reached the tall mirror, he dialed Lord Death. “42-42-564, for when you want to knock on Death’s door.”  
“Oh, hello Crona!” Lord Death greeted him cheerfully, waving one huge hand. “What’s up?”  
“Dr. Stein wanted me to tell you that Spirit is awake, and that he’s coming to see you in a little while.”  
“Really? That’s great news!” Death bounced slightly, his mask managing to look happy. “Thank you for giving it to me!” Crona bobbed his head in an awkward bow, eyes flickering up as Death continued. “That reminds me, Kid phoned in a little while ago, it seems that they haven’t found anything at the scene, and are returning home now. They should be back here by sometime this evening.”  
Crona smiled softly, rubbing his arm. “That’s good.” His eyes bulged as he realized how that could have been taken. “I mean, it’s good that they’re coming back, not that they haven’t found anything!”   
“I understand. Would you mind telling Stein to bring me a few bags of that special tea he had last week? It’s rather addicting stuff.”  
“S-sure.”  
“Thanks, Crona. See ya!” Death flashed a thumbs up at him as the screen cut out. Crona sighed, turning back around to deliver the second message. By the time that he had gotten there and told Stein, he was already ten minutes late for class.   
“Hm. Looks like you’re late. How about this; you look after Spirit for the rest of the day, and I’ll sign the excuse forms for you. Sound good?” Stein asked, Crona nodding eagerly. Stein set three bags of tea on the table beside Spirit before going into the back room to dig up some excuse forms.  
“Hey, kiddo.” Crona looked over at Spirit, who was leaning up on one arm, running a hand through his red hair. Crona felt that something about him seemed off, but couldn’t figure out what it was. “Could you go and get me a couple of aspirin from the cabinet?”  
“S-sure.”  
Crona looked in the cabinet as directed, but couldn’t find any aspirin. “Maybe Stein moved it into the other room.”  
Crona walked into the adjoining room, shuffling through the little bottles of pills, quickly finding the correct bottle. He walked back in just as Spirit was resealing the tea bags, jolting guiltily as Crona coughed. “Oh, hey! You found them! Thanks.”   
“Wh-what were you doing?”  
“With Lord Death’s tea? I was just making sure that Stein didn’t put any laxatives in them. The last time he gave me a muffin, I was stuck in the bathroom for days, if you know what I mean.” Spirit laughed loudly, eyes flickering to Crona’s face. “So, can I have the aspirin now, please?”  
“Oh, sorry.” As Crona handed the bottle to the Death Scythe, he realized what seemed off about him. His eyes, normally hooded with guilt or anger, were light and happy. The other thing was that when Crona had come in, his irises had seemed to be glowing a golden white.   
Crona shrugged it off, figuring it was just his imagination, sitting down in a chair opposite of Spirit’s bed. Stein rushed out of the back room, forms in hand, only stopping to grab the bags of tea and tell both Crona and Spirit to stay put before dashing on down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?  
> Comments?  
> Criticisms?  
> Readers?  
> Hello?  
> Sigh...  
> PLEASE COMMENT!   
> Make my day and get my mind off of this stupid bug!  
> Please?


	7. The Little One and Black Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona remembers the events preceding and following the death of the Little One. Also; what's going on with Spirit? Will the other kids ever get back to the school?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to you, my reader! {By the way, if I'm writing to myself, that's pretty sad.} I'm finally somewhat over my bug, all that's left is a little bit of a runny nose and a very persistent cough. Yay!  
> Now, before I continue, I've just read the BEST fan fic- Blood Red Silver by CuteCat213. I highly advise that you go and check it out.  
> In any case, getting back to _my_ fan fic, I do not own Soul Eater. I can always wish, though...

Chapter Seven  
Crona walked down the corridor, tray of lunch for the bedridden Spirit in hand. When he got back into the medical ward, Lord Death was there, talking softly with Spirit. As Lord Death turned to wave at Crona, Spirit’s eyes flashed golden white again, making it the fourth time that Crona had seen his eyes change color. “Hello Crona. What’s happening?”  
“I got Spirit some lunch.” Crona replied, holding the tray up for inspection.  
“Ooh, lime gelatin!” Lord Death exclaimed, bouncing over to prod the wobbly green mound.  
“Hey, come on! Is nothing sacred anymore?” Spirit complained, weakly sitting up.  
“Sorry.” Lord Death said, though he didn’t sound that sorry. Crona handed the tray to the Death Scythe, retreating back to his chair in the opposite corner. “Oh, I’m sorry Crona, but would you mind giving us a little privacy? There are a few things that I need to ask Spirit alone, if you don’t mind.”  
“S-sure.” Crona walked out of the room, looking back to see Spirit’s eyes glowing yet again. That’s the fifth time, now. He shook his head and headed back to his room to take a nap. Crona opened the door of his little haven, plopping onto his bed with a sigh of relief and exhaustion, falling asleep quickly.  
**_Crona held Ragnaroc in his sword form, staring into the defiant yet terrified red eyes of the small black lizard. “Kill it…” The crisp command dripped from Lady Medusa’s lips, her voice ice cold._**  
**_“Kill it…” Raven’s voice, so similar to Crona’s own, whispering in his mind. “It’ll be fun, trust me!”_**  
**_“Kill it…?” Crona half sighed, half giggled, staggering towards the baby dragon. Its mouth opened, a small ball of flame scorching his face. He frowned, silver eyes freezing over as he tilted his head, inspecting the dragon critically. “I wonder if you’re anything like me?” Crona giggled madly, his long grin reappearing. “Probably not. I’m a very bad person, you know.”_**  
**_He raised Ragnaroc, feeling his Weapon’s identical insane blood-lust, so strong that the sword was actually vibrating in anticipation against Crona’s hands. “Good bye, little one.” The dragon stood on its hind legs, rearing back to blow more fire, and Crona struck. Ragnaroc pierced through its tough hide, sinking up to the hilt from the vicious attack._**  
**_Suddenly, the surroundings changed; Medusa faded into shadow, the dark halls of her castle shifting into the brightly lit living room of Maka’s house. The baby dragon changed too, the rough black scales smoothing into a soft obsidian jacket, the fiery red eyes widening into emerald orbs that stared at Crona in a mix of pain, confusion, betrayal and sorrow. “C-Crona?” He looked down to see Ragnaroc penetrating her stomach, the tip coming out of her back._**  
**_Raven stood at his back, the shadow figure whispering into his ear. “Fun, isn’t it? Finish her off, Crona!”_**  
**_Crona grinned crazily, nodding. Maka stiffened in pain as he ripped Ragnaroc out of her torso before brutally slamming it back in, her body contorting in a desperate attempt to escape the agony. He smashed the hilt forward, digging the blade further and further as Maka gasped, tears falling down her cheeks. “Cro-Crona, wh- AAGH!” Crona had cut off her sentence with a cruel jab to her first wound, the girl howling as he did so._**  
**_Crona shoved the blade into her as far as he could, Ragnaroc sticking firmly into the wall behind them. “Night, Maka!” he chirped cheerfully, wiggling the fingers of one hand at her as her figure sagged forward, green eyes going dull and blank. He laughed with Raven as her scarlet blood ran; down Ragnaroc and pooling around his hands before dripping to the floor, and trickling from her lips in a crimson streak._**  
Crona sat straight up in his bed, gasping for breath. “NO!” He shuddered and staggered into his bathroom, where he promptly threw up. When he came back out, face pale and tear-streaked, Crona grabbed his pillow and sank into the corner of his room. The pressure of the two walls pressed reassuringly against his back as he wept, shoulders heaving with the intensity of his gasping sobs.  
“Do you want to play? I can-“ Crona cut Raven off, red-rimmed eyes glaring hatefully at the shadow’s form.  
“Leave me alone.” Crona’s voice shook with fear and certainty, making Raven frown sadly.  
“All I want to do is help-“  
“No. Just leave me alone, NOW!!!” Crona snarled, slamming a fist into his shadow.  
“As you wish.” A tear dripped from the figure’s eye, then Raven slowly faded into Crona’s regular shadow, leaving him alone in the room.  
Crona shivered and curled up tighter, burying his face into his pillow as Ragnaroc pushed out of his back, leaning on his head. “Hey, Crona. Back in Mr. Corner, I see.” Crona scowled up at his companion, the stupid nickname that Ragnaroc had come up with for whatever corner Crona used to calm himself down never failing to irritate the young Maister.  
“Stop calling it that.”  
“Or what, shrimp? You gonna boo-hoo some more?” Ragnaroc bopped Crona’s head. “Stupid. If you’re gonna snivel over every damn nightmare you have, then you’ll be stuck between good old Mr. Corner and your bed for the rest of your life. I have nightmares too, sometimes, but you don’t see me falling apart over them. Of course, I know that I can beat up anything that attacks me, while you’re so pathetically wimpy that I guess it’s a natural instinct to be scared of everything.”  
Crona sighed into the pillow, knowing that Ragnaroc was right; he really had to toughen up… but he just didn’t know how to deal with that right now. “I’m just so scared that I might give in one day…”  
Ragnaroc growled, his tiny fists pummeling Crona’s back. “Idiot! You’ve had plenty of opportunities to give in to that asshole Raven before, but you haven’t. Just because you had a nasty-wasty bad dream you think you’re just gonna betray all of your friends? How many of your other nightmares have come true, huh? ZERO.” Ragnaroc huffed impatiently. “If you’re just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, I’m out of here.” Crona winced as Ragnaroc flooded back into him, black blood quickly sealing up his ripped skin.  
Crona sniffed deeply, taking a few breaths before getting to his feet. He washed the tears and snot off of his face, the cool liquid refreshing against his skin, then headed back towards the medical ward.  
Crona’s memory was a cruel thing. About the only things in it that stayed firm were the memories of the day that he had killed the black dragon, the first time that Medusa had ever looked truly proud of him, the first time that he had met Maka and Soul, and every day since Maka had chosen to save him and become his friend; the last three the simultaneous best and worst days of his life. All of his other memories were either foggy or just… gone, a result of Lady Medusa’s black magic meshing with Raven to turn him into her ‘perfect weapon’. They would come and go; sometimes Crona could remember a lot of his horrible actions with vividly clear recollection, and then- poof! Just like that, they would slip out of his grasp, though he usually was very grateful for that. Crona stared at his feet as he plodded down the hall, one hand running up and down his arm. He really wished he couldn’t remember that first night, though. After all, that was the one that truly started his career as Lady Medusa’s killer, something that made him sick just to think about.  
_“You little shit!” Ragnaroc growled, giving the five-year-old Crona yet another hard blow, the small boy having long ago crumpled into a heap on the floor. He was shaking from a mixture of pain and fear, both summoned up by the monstrous being that was currently beating him into submission for the… well, he had lost track of just how many times that he had refused to kill the little black dragon. It was Ragnaroc’s pet, the only other thing that the older boy had loved almost as much as Crona. He had often told Crona that the baby dragon was the other ‘little one’ in his life. The name had stuck, and, once Ragnaroc had helped him deal with his fear of the black-scaled lizard, they had all played together many times, the dragon now just as much his pet as Ragnaroc’s._  
_Crona felt his hot tears puddle against his cheek, which was currently being pressed hard into the floor as this new Ragnaroc, the one who was mean and cruel and hurt him and scared him and didn’t even care about the Little One, cracked a fist into his face over and over. “Just kill the stupid dragon already! Who cares about the fucking lizard? I’m tired of being stuck in this damn room!”_  
_Crona had thought that once Lady Medusa had healed Ragnaroc that everything would go back to how it had been. Crona was sick at the thought of how many souls he had had to get for Lady Medusa, how many people he had been forced to slice up to get the parts she needed. He was so tired of hurting others._  
_Crona had been ecstatic when Lady Medusa had told him that the giant’s pure blue soul had been the last thing that she needed to fix Ragnaroc. Finally, he didn't have to cause pain and misery anymore! Then he had made a horrible mistake, and this Ragnaroc had shown up. A few days later, Ragnaroc had somehow ended up in his blood and looked like something out of a nightmare; shiny black skin, bulging x pupils, and always seeming to be stuck halfway in Crona no matter how hard either boy struggled. The worst part was the huge white X that crisscrossed Ragnaroc’s new face, a glaring reminder of why he couldn’t complain or fight back too hard when Ragnaroc picked on or bullied him._  
_Crona just lay there and took the blows, quietly whimpering as the punches got harder and harder. He was still happy to have this Ragnaroc, even with his tendency to give Crona a multitude of bruises, and had thanked Lady Medusa gratefully for fixing him. Crona had started to head back to his old room, ready to get out of the frilled dress that she had been having him wear, when the door clicked shut in front of him. Lady Medusa had explained that since his guardian was no longer able to properly keep an eye on him, Crona would be staying under her care from then on._  
_About three months later, she had brought him into the room that Ragnaroc had tortured him in, Crona tensing until he had seen the familiar form of the Little One sitting on the floor. He had run over and hugged the dragon, the Little One nuzzling his neck in greeting. Then, Lady Medusa had told him to kill the Little One. When he had refused, she had thrown him in here, Crona frowning at the pitch black darkness. Lady Medusa had let him back out countless times, always telling him to kill the baby dragon, and sending him flying back into the dark room on a vector arrow when he wouldn’t._  
_It hadn't been too bad, other than the fact that he was getting a slight fear of the dark, until a few hours ago. Lady Medusa had muttered something to Ragnaroc, and ever since then he had been beating the snot {literally} out of Crona every time that Lady Medusa sent him back to his room, snarling at him about how he couldn’t ‘deal’ with anything. “Admit it! You can’t deal with this, can you. CAN YOU?” Crona yelped as Ragnaroc smashed a fist into his jaw._  
_“A-alright! I c-can’t deal with this!”_  
_“That’s right, you little fuck. Say it again!”_  
_Ragnaroc had been doing this a lot, forcing Crona to repeat over and over that he couldn’t deal with this or that, only stopping beating the boy when he dutifully spoke the phrase._  
_Lady Medusa hadn’t given him any food or water for however long he had been in here, one of the things that Ragnaroc was yelling at him about now. “Shit. I’m starving! Just get the hell over yourself and kill the damn thing. Maybe then Medusa will give us some food.” Crona curled into a ball, trying to ignore the harsh pounding that smashed into his head and back as his own stomach gurgled painfully._  
_Raven had been popping in occasionally, Crona shaking his head every time the soft voice asked him if he wanted its help yet. The voice would sigh, then leave for a while longer, coming back whenever Crona was at his weakest. In other words… right after a violent beating from Ragnaroc or a cold lecture from Lady Medusa. Raven never pressed, acquiescing to Crona’s wishes immediately, not once trying to bully or force him into meshing._  
_That was one of the things that made Crona nod when the soft question came again, only hesitating for a moment. Then the hardest blow that Ragnaroc had given yet cracked into his head, sending Crona into unconsciousness._  
_He was back on the beach, sitting next to the dark form of Raven. It was grinning happily, its crescent smile wide. “I’m so glad you finally decided to play! It didn’t look very fun out there. Are- are you okay?”_  
_Crona nodded, looking at his shoes in embarrassment. Raven was the first one to ask that since Ragnaroc had gotten hurt. “Yeah. I just can’t deal with how Ragnaroc has changed-“ he cut himself off, scowling at the sand as he dug his fingers into his arms. The ‘I can’t deal with’ phrase had begun to sneak into his sentences a lot lately, due to Ragnaroc’s sudden love of hearing Crona use it. One of the worst ways that Ragnaroc had begun to force Crona into speaking the words was that when Lady Medusa would punish him for making a mistake in his schooling or training, Ragnaroc would wait until Crona yelped out that he couldn’t deal with whatever wound Lady Medusa had inflicted on him before healing Crona._  
_Raven’s smile dimmed, a sympathetic glimmer in its blank eyes. “You really hate what Lady Medusa did to Ragnaroc, don’t you.”_  
_Crona flinched. “She didn’t do anything to him except heal him. All of what I’m going through right now is completely my own fault.” Raven opened its mouth to say something else, but Crona hurried on. “Let’s play tag!” Raven nodded, its grin brightening once more._  
_“Alright, you’re It!”_  
_The two played for a long time, finally flopping back onto the sand._  
_“That was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?”_

_Raven stiffened, inasmuch as a shadowy figure could, blank eyes focused on something in the distance. “Aww… It’s time for you to choose whether or not you want to stay here.”_  
_Crona tilted his head curiously. “What would happen if I decided to stay here?”_  
_Raven smiled. “Then your body would just respond to whatever orders it is given.”_  
_Crona flinched, remembering the command that he had been getting. “No, I have to go.” He stood, brushing the sand off of his dress. “I wish that witches didn’t have such a big deal against boy witches. This is humiliating!”_  
_Raven nodded in agreement, looking down at its own figure which exactly mirrored Crona’s, dress and all. “I completely understand.” Crona reached a hand out to touch Raven’s, the two melding together flawlessly._  
_“Get up.” Lady Medusa’s voice was cold as her toe nudged Crona’s torso._  
Crona grinned, his smile demented as he got to his feet. He thought he heard Lady Medusa gasp slightly, which only made his smile widen. Feeling something trickle down his lip, he ran a hand over some slime under his nose, expecting to see snot when he peered at it. Instead, black ooze smeared his fingertips. “Did you know, my blood is black!” Crona informed his mother, giggling at her momentary flash of surprise. He felt Ragnaroc burst out of his back, turning to see his companion wearing an identically insane expression, his x eyes rolling around in their sockets before focusing on Lady Medusa.  
_They trotted into the other room, Crona wondering absently what color Lady Medusa’s blood was. He was considering using Ragnaroc to find out, when his eyes fell on the baby dragon. “My blood is black, did you know?” he repeated, gaze fixed on the little black lizard. A giggle dropped from his lips as he tilted his head. “What color is yours?”_  
_Ragnaroc chuckled crazily, the Weapon shifting into his sword form after slurring, “Let’s find out!” into Crona’s ear._  
_“Sounds fun!” Raven agreed, the shade looking on with fascinated interest from Crona’s shadow._  
_Crona nodded and raised the sword, his smile never wavering as the blow fell, the dragon’s head dropping to the floor. Ignoring the growing puddle around its body, Crona lifted Ragnaroc’s stained blade, peering at the liquid slowly running down the blade. “You have red blood, Little One!” Crona grinned happily as he glanced back towards his pet, expecting to see its red eyes shining with its usual curiosity. The sight of its corpse lying in an ever-growing pool of crimson struck through his madness, the shock making him faint._  
_Crona refused to answer any of Raven’s twenty-five questions, passing each time until the shadow sighed in frustration and nodded. “Fine. I’m leaving, but you can always call me back, if you need to.”_  
_Crona sat up, wondering why his face was all sticky. Wiping a hand across his eyes, he looked at his hand, only to yelp and scramble back as he realized that he had fallen into the Little One’s puddle of blood. “N-no…”_  
_He rocked back and forth, trying not to look at the dragon’s still form. “L-little one…”_  
_“What happened?” Crona flinched and turned to see Lady Medusa standing in the door, gold slit eyes furrowed in confusion. “Why aren’t you happier?” She smiled. “After all, you found out what color its blood is.”_  
_“I don’t care what color the Little One’s blood is!” Crona wailed, tears rolling down his little cheeks. “I can’t d-deal with killing!”_  
_“You just did.”_  
_“N-no, Raven did!”_  
_Lady Medusa stiffened, golden eyes widening in sudden interest. “Raven?”_  
_“When we mush together, it makes me like hurting people and animals and I don’t like it!” Crona moaned, blowing his nose loudly into his sleeve._  
_“Really? Do you think that there is any way for me to meet this… Raven? I’d really like to.” Lady Medusa smiled earnestly, walking over to kneel next to him._  
_“I-I don’t know… It’s always in my shadow, or in our play spot…” Crona sniffled, looking at the floor._  
_“Your… play spot? Where’s that?”_  
_“Raven said that it’s in my head, but it looks just like the beach where Ragnaroc would take me.”_  
_Lady Medusa chuckled, the velvety sound making Crona look up in surprise. Her face was split with one of the scariest smiles that the boy had ever seen, slit eyes filled with malicious glee. “Well, well. Let’s see if I can bring Raven to the surface, shall we?” A black snake flickered out of the corner of her mouth, slithering down to the floor and running up Crona’s back before he could warn her how horrible he was when Raven and he played. A second later he felt something slide into the back of his neck, stiffening in pain as agony spreading from that spot to fill his entire head, before he blacked out._  
_He was back on the beach in his mind, but everything was wrong. The sun was scorching hot unlike the comforting warmth that it had been, the flat stretch of sand was littered with broken branches and sharp shards of shells instead of being the dunes of soft, glittering golden grains. The worst part, however, was the water. The cool blue waves of liquid had turned dark, black streaks of Lady Medusa’s snakes wriggling around in the water. “Wh-what’s going on?” Crona asked, knees shaking._  
_“I don’t know…” Raven said, its voice uncertain. Crona saw with surprise that Raven was in his shadow instead of walking around in the dark form that it always took here. “This isn’t right…”_  
_Crona flinched as a snake started to slither towards the two, slowly inching its way out of the water. He grabbed one of the discarded sticks, holding it towards the reptile threateningly. “St-stay away!” It ignored the warning, continuing on its path. Crona starting backing away, making it a few steps before he tripped over a large stone embedded in the sand. The stick flew out of his grasp, making a long score in the sand in front of him as it skidded away. Crona cringed as the snake slithered after him, not three feet away now, waiting for it to strike and make pain rush through his body…_  
_It stopped as it reached the line, hissing in frustration as it slithered beside the stripe in the sand. Crona watched in surprise as it had to go completely around the slash before continuing on towards him. He got to his feet and made a dash for the branch, managing to make a small circle around himself before the snake reached him. It spat, fury in every line of its being as the snake circled the continuous line, unable to pass. Crona sat, flinching as it lunged for him before dropping to the ground, still unable to cross the border. Raven huddled inside the circle as well, blank eyes fixed on the serpent. “This shouldn’t be possible. I made this place for you, so that you could have a sort of… safe haven. This is just not right!”_  
_Crona touched the shadow, the two connecting but not melding. Both frowned. “Wh-why can’t I go out?”_  
_“I d-don’t know,” Raven stuttered, looking flabbergasted. “Try again.” Once again, they merely slid together instead of into each other, but this time, Crona could see what was going on…_  
_“Kill him.” Lady Medusa ordered, pointing at a prisoner in her dungeons, the man pulling frantically against his chains._  
_“Yes, Lady Medusa.” Crona replied, voice monotone as he stepped forward, sword Ragnaroc in hand. One slice later, the man no longer struggled._  
_“How interesting.” Medusa sounded amused. “I wonder what will happen when my lovely manages to catch up with the boy’s mind.”_  
_Crona yanked back, falling to the sand. “NO!” Raven yelled, a hand reaching towards him, and Crona noticed with horror that he had erased a portion of the line. He grabbed for the stick, but it was too late. The snake slid into their safe spot, eyeing them momentarily before sinking its fangs into Crona’s side. He fell to the ground, absently noting that he and Raven were finally melding as he convulsed, the snake wrapping its coils around both of them._  
_“Wh-what?” Crona asked, blinking in confusion. He could have sworn that he was dying in his mind, but here he was in Lady Medusa’s dungeon, a bloody Ragnaroc in one hand with no recollection of how he had gotten there._  
_“Well, well. How nice of you to join us.” Lady Medusa said, smirking as Crona flinched back against the wall. He was surrounded by people hanging from the walls by chains, all of them cursing and howling in pain._  
_“I- I can’t deal with this many people!” Crona yelped, hands over his ears to block out the sound. “I can’t deal with this much noise!”_  
_Lady Medusa’s voice came from right beside his ear, a smile in her voice as she spoke. “There is a very simple solution. Kill them. That way you don’t have to deal with them or their noise.”_  
_Crona giggled nervously, one hand reaching over to grab his other arm. “Y-yeah, that makes sense.” He raised Ragnaroc, feeling the sword eagerly awaiting an order. It seemed like when they were fighting was the only time that Ragnaroc was semi-obedient to his wishes anymore. “Ragnaroc, Scream Resonance.”_  
_The Weapon shrieked at an extremely high pitch, the sound grating against Crona’s ears. He only managed to last a few minutes before his scream of pain added the extra bit of power to the attack that it needed, crimson spurting from the prisoner’s ears, eyes and mouths. Ragnaroc finally quieted, the eerie mouth dissolving back into the blade as Crona swung, blood raining down everywhere. When the last person had been killed, he looked up at Lady Medusa, an insane smile on his face. “It’s all quiet now.” His smile faded quickly, though mad giggles still bubbled up from inside him. “I can’t deal with how quiet it is…”_  
_Medusa smiled, making a come-hither gesture at him. “While I’m curious just how long your mind can tolerate staying like this, I suppose that a bit of caution and patience would be wise.” Crona and Ragnaroc laughed manically as agony ripped through their minds, the snake yanking itself out of Crona’s head._  
_Crona and Raven tore themselves apart, the beach still depressingly wrong around them. Crona shook, terror making his stomach sink. “This is bad…”_  
_Raven looked at something beyond Crona and blanched. “No kidding.”_  
_Crona turned and saw that the waves had disappeared, the water simply… gone. Instead, hot sand stretched out around them as far as he could see. Raven looked at Crona a moment before sighing. “Since you didn’t invite me into your mind, our normal rules don’t apply. I guess I’ll see you around, Crona.”_  
_Crona sat up on the floor, Lady Medusa looking like the cat who ate the canary. Crona had always hated that saying, loving both cats and canaries, but in this case…_  
_“You may go to your room, Crona.”_  
_“Thank you, Lady Medusa.”_  
Crona was still lost in the horror of that day when he distractedly walked in the door of the medical ward, absently seeing that Lord Death had left, Spirit sitting alone in the room. “Oh, hey kiddo. I was wondering where you had run off to.”  
“S-sorry, I went back to my room.” Crona replied quietly, pulling his chair into the darkest corner of the room before sitting down. He sighed, shuddering as he wished that he could banish his memories as easily and effectively as he could Raven.  
“You okay?” Spirit looked concerned, propping himself up on his elbows to see Crona better.  
“I’m f-fine.” Crona mentally winced as his voice broke, Spirit’s eyes narrowing as it did so but didn’t pushing push the point.  
“If you say so. Hey, do you know when Maka is going to be back?”  
“Lord Death said that they should be here sometime today.”  
Spirit’s eyes went soft and dreamy, plopping back onto his pillow with a sigh. “My darling Maka, please hurry back to your loving Papa!”  
Crona smiled at the silly Death Scythe, knowing that if Maka were actually here, she would probably be fuming over his smotheringly loving attitude or leaving in a huff. “Why Lord Death sent her out, I don’t know. It seems like sending a team of highly skilled adults would be a much better situation.” As Spirit spoke, his eyes flashed golden-white yet again.  
“Why do your eyes change color?” Crona blurted, curiosity getting the better of him. Spirit smiled in confusion, one hand reaching up to touch an eye.  
“As far as I know, they don’t.” Spirit gave him a patronizing glance. “You must be tired, huh?”  
“I-I guess,” Crona muttered, knowing that he wasn’t imagining things, but not having enough energy to argue the point. Stein strode through the door, a dark frown on his face.  
“This is bad…” he muttered, rooting around in various cabinets and drawers, picking up tools and looking them over before tossing them back. “What to do, what to do, what to do.” Stein turned and jumped slightly, apparently just noticing the room’s other occupants. “Oh, that’s right. Hello.”  
“What’s going on?” Spirit asked, grimacing as he swung his legs over the side of his bed.  
“Stay in bed, you haven’t healed enough to be up yet. Lord Death isn’t feeling well, nothing too bad, but it is odd. This is the first time in over four or five decades that he’s been ill, since Shinigami have a naturally strong defense against illness that only grows as they age.” Stein pulled out a stethoscope, tapping the ear buds before pulling it over his head and slamming the drawer shut.  
“Lord Death is sick?” Spirit asked, Crona noticing his eyes flashing again. He thought about asking Stein about it, but the doctor spoke before he could.  
“Like I said, it isn’t that serious. He has a sore throat, that’s all.” Stein picked up a bottle of pills, glancing at the label before tapping a few of the capsules into a small bag and replacing the container. “I have to go. Crona, don’t let Spirit get out of bed.”  
Stein was back out the door before Crona could protest, though he probably wouldn’t have even if Stein had stuck around. “That’s weird, Lord Death getting sick out of the blue like this,” Crona said, thinking out loud.  
“Yeah, it is. Hey, kiddo, you can take the rest of the day off if you’d like. Keep an eye out for Maka for me.”  
“But Dr. Stein-“  
“Stein’s a worry wart. After all, it’s not like I can do anything. Just because I’m stuck in here doesn’t mean that you should be.” Ragnaroc pushed his head out of Crona’s back to add his two cents.  
“Yeah, sounds good to me! Let’s go out to town and get some more candy.”  
“B-but-“  
“Shut up and roll with it, idiot.” Ragnaroc hissed in his ear, loudly commenting on what a nicety-nice shmuck Crona was.  
“All right, all right!” Crona said, buckling as usual under his Weapon’s pressuring. “Fine.”  
“Yes!” Ragnaroc exulted, pumping his fist. Spirit smiled and waved at the two as they left, Crona plodding towards the end of the hall and turning the corner. Suddenly, Ragnaroc pounded on his head, exasperation in his voice as he growled, “Hey, stupid. Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious why Spirit was so eager to get us out of there?”  
“But I thought that you wanted to-“  
“Moron. I couldn’t really go and say, ‘Hey, Crona, let’s go and hide in the hall so we can spy on Spirit’, now could I?” Ragnaroc shook his head in disapproval. “Anyway, let’s head back.”  
Crona nodded and padded back around to the medical ward’s door, Ragnaroc poking one of his bulging eyes up to peek through the window, promptly ducking back down. “I thought Spirit was stuck in his bed!” Ragnaroc muttered, leaning on Crona’s head.  
“He is.” Crona shifted to get in a more comfortable position as Ragnaroc looked back into the room again. “You saw him, he could barely sit up.”  
“Well, he healed really fast, ‘cause he’s standing on the other end of the room now.”  
Crona frowned and cautiously looked in himself. Sure enough, Spirit was on his feet, digging through the shelf of medications. He glanced towards the door; Crona and Ragnaroc ducking back down as he did so, their hearts pounded in their chests. “Fuck. I never would have taken Maka’s dad for a pill junkie.” Ragnaroc commented quietly, x eyes surprised.  
Crona risked another quick peek, and what he saw made no sense; Spirit had pulled a bottle off of the shelf, dumping the pills down the drain before replacing them with a small bag of capsules, throwing the package into the trash as he re-screwed the cap and set the container back onto the rack.  
“What the hell?” Ragnaroc breathed, then gasped slightly as Spirit swung to look at the window. Both boys held their breath, backs pressed up against the door as they waited to see if they had been discovered. However, when Ragnaroc finally looked back into the room, Spirit had returned to his bed. “Let’s get out of here!”  
Crona and Ragnaroc eventually did make a quick run into town, Crona buying a bag of assorted mints for his bossy companion. Ragnaroc ripped the small sack open as they got back to the school, unable to wait any longer. Popping a candy into his mouth, Ragnaroc let out a soft hum of pleasure. “Damn, that tastes good…” he sighed. Crona walked back to the hospital room, Spirit waving cheerfully as they sat down.  
“Enjoy your little outing?”  
Crona nodded, rubbing his arm uncomfortably as his eyes flicked to the shelf of pills, seeing the bottle that Spirit had switched out. It seemed familiar for some reason, but Crona couldn’t quite remember why. Ragnaroc was still out of it, his torso draped over Crona’s head as he munched through his new bag of sweets. The door opened, breaking the semi-awkward silence. Maka, Soul and Tsubaki stepped in, Maka cringing at the immediate crash as Spirit fell out of his bed. “MAKA! My little baby girl’s back, and she came to see me!” Crona could almost see hearts floating around his head as the Death Scythe swooned happily.  
Spirit’s face fell as Maka ignored him, addressing Crona. “Hi.”  
“H-hey.”  
“What’s wrong with Ragnaroc?” Tsubaki asked, Soul walking over to poke the limp figure.  
“Sugar is awesome!” Ragnaroc slurred, one ball of a fist waving momentarily in the air before falling to bounce against Crona’s face.  
“Sorry about him.” Crona apologized, flushing as Ragnaroc winked crudely at Tsubaki, bulging eyes slowly raking over her form with undoubtedly indecent thoughts. “S-sometimes sugar does this to him, b-but it should wear off soon.”  
Maka frowned at Ragnaroc, her gaze softening as her eyes met Crona’s. Suddenly her emerald eyes filled with horrified worry, Crona flinching in surprise at the change in her mood. “Wh-what’s wrong?”  
A gloved hand ran gently over his cheek, skirting around the still-healing bruises. Crona flinched again as he remembered what his face looked like, Tsubaki’s eyes widening as she stepped nearer. Crona realized that he was sitting mostly in shadow, the three newcomers not having been able to see his injuries until they had gotten up close. “Crona, what happened?” Maka asked, her soul wave length brushing against his, the presence warm and comforting against his soul.  
“I f-fell down the stairs.” Crona looked down, refusing to let them know how weak he was without them around to protect him. “Clumsy me.” He chuckled lightly, silver eyes darting here and there as he spoke.  
“That seems a little severe for just falling down stairs, and I should know.” Tsubaki said, her concerned look turning into a tolerant smile. “Black Star’s fallen down more staircases than I really care to remember.” She chuckled lightly. “Actually, Black Star doesn’t fall down, he throws himself down them.”  
Crona felt Maka study him for a minute, leaning down to whisper, “I want to talk with you later,” before briskly changing the subject with a barely visible grimace. “So, how are you doing, dad?”  
Spirit immediately perked up from where he had been sulking moodily on his bed, Soul having helped the older scythe back up off the floor. “Much better now that you’re back, little woogums!”  
Maka’s eye twitched, her hands balling into fists. “Don’t call me that!”  
“Why not? I always called you that when you were just a little baby, so cute-“  
“DAD!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. What'd you think? I'm considering adding other people's points of view, but I haven't decided yet. Ideas?  
> My Soul Eater amv of the day is... What Do You Want From Me by zolfiji's channel.  
> Please do any or all of the following-  
> Comment on how my story is doing...  
> Criticize my writing or plot up to the point of flames...  
> Give me pointers on how to make it better...  
> Make requests for future chapters...  
> {By the above, I'm basically asking for help on continuing my story. I've got a plot... more or less... but thinking up these different memories is time consuming.}  
> Aaaand finally... please suggest your favorite Crona or Crona/Maka amvs!  
> Thanks for reading my horror show of a story, hope you're enjoying it!


	8. Slam Dunks and Drills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crona and friends go out to play a little basketball. After the game, Crona and Maka are left all alone together... What happens to make Maka go walking off, ticked at Crona?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sup? I'm sorry, I think that the quality of my chapters are going down. I'll try harder, but I have some things later on that I'm really eager to get to. It would really help if you offered tips or advise on memories or requests... HINT! HINT! HINT!  
> In any case, I don't own Soul Eater, or; Crona would definitely be a guy, he and Maka would definitely be a couple, and their basketball games would always end up like this one!  
> So it's probably a good thing that someone else owns Soul eater. {sigh...}   
> Hope you enjoy!

After another half hour or so of feeling uncomfortable and extremely happy at the same time as Maka yelled at Spirit, the Death Scythe only managing to get her even angrier as he gooily cooed over her while the others stood back and chuckled quietly at the spectacle, Black Star, Kid, Liz and Patty walked in. Or rather, Kid strode in, Liz walked in, Patty skipped in, and Black Star threw the door open with a triumphant cry of, “I am the greatest ninja assassin in the world! I follow the assassin’s rules, perfectly, of course. Someone as awesome as me couldn’t possibly do anything less than perfectly, it just wouldn’t-“  
“Black Star, we’re in the medical room. Would you mind keeping it down a little?” Nygus’s calm voice cut through Black Star’s lecture on how amazing he was, the bandage-wrapped nurse peering in. She had gone with the other kids on their little ‘field trip’, which was why Stein had been acting as the school doctor.   
“Sorry,” Tsubaki offered, smiling sheepishly at the nurse. Nygus smiled back, or at least the bandages over her mouth crinkled upward suggesting that she had.  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
A little while later, the kids decided to go out and play a little basketball before it got dark out. As they were about to head out, Stein walked in, eyes fixed on his clipboard. “Hi, Professor Stein.” Maka said, cheerfully greeting the mad scientist, who merely waved an absent-minded hand at her. He walked over to the cabinet to grab a bottle of pills and went back out, Crona seeing the bottle as Stein passed him. He flinched, silver eyes widening in shock as he realized that it was the same one that Spirit had switched out. As the kids strolled out to start their game, Crona noted uncomfortably that Spirit’s eyes were fixed on him, orbs narrow.   
Crona fretted through most of the first game, worrying about what to do. Unfortunately, that meant that his concentration was next to non-existent, Black Star and Patty literally running him into the ground several times as the two spastoids fought to keep control of the ball. “Ow.”  
He got his head into the present by their second game, Ragnaroc even coming out to participate. That started a small argument as to whether Ragnaroc would be considered another player or not, Crona finally bringing up the point that Ragnaroc couldn’t really hold the ball without fingers very easily. Of course, Ragnaroc socked him in the head and went back into his back in a huff, but his companion eventually came back out to shout coarse insults at both teams, Crona included.   
Crona was always amazed that a simple game with his friends would take most of his training with Medusa to survive, but this game was even more interesting than usual. Soul had gotten tired of Kid’s constant symmetry obsession, telling him that if he didn’t get his head out of the clouds {for some reason, they had decided to line up symmetrically at that moment} and back into the game, he was going to Manifest on him. Kid had just grinned, Liz and Patty Manifesting into their gun forms. Black Star, feeling left out, had had Tsubaki Manifest as well, using her chain to knock everyone off of their feet, then crowing at the top of his lungs about what an amazing star he was.  
After that, the game had turned into sort of a free for all, with Crona, Ragnaroc, Kid, Liz and Patty on one team, Maka, Soul, Tsubaki and Black Star on the other, both teams still technically playing with a basketball on a basketball court, but just about anything seemed to be legal now. Kid slid to his knees, shooting three bursts of his soul wave length at Maka, the blonde easily dodging them as she ran towards the post with the ball. Black Star and Crona were dueling with their swords, Tsubaki in her Enchanted Sword mode, Black Star’s face riddled with stripes as he lunged forward. Crona deflected the blow, managing to swing a leg around in a weak attempt to trip Maka as she went for the goal, surprise flickering across his face as it actually worked. Maka flipped as she went down, managing to not actually hit the ground as the ball soared through the air, Kid tossing his Weapons up after it. As they began to fall, Liz Manifested back into her human form, grabbing the ball and tossing it to Patty.   
Black Star chased after the girl, Tsubaki switching into her chain weapon mode. Black Star threw one of the blades, the end wrapping around Patty’s legs. “No one is a greater star than Black Star!” As the spastic girl went down, she tossed the ball to Crona, who promptly froze.   
“Idiot! Go for a slam dunk!” Ragnaroc growled, lips protruding from the black blade. Crona unfroze as Maka brought Soul around in a wide sweep, automatically blocking the strike with Ragnaroc as he tried to figure out what to do next, feeling uncomfortable fighting with one hand, the other holding the ball. He frowned and tossed the ball into the air as hard as he could, attacking back in earnest now. Swing to the right, jab straight ahead, block the scythe blade, jump over Maka’s leg sweep, duck left, duck right, duck left again, flip backwards to get a little breathing room… “Hey, Crona! The ball!” Crona’s silver eyes flicked up to see the basketball returning to earth and used Ragnaroc sort of like a baseball bat, smashing the flat of the blade into the side of the ball. It sped off, somehow managing to go straight through the hoop on the other end of the court.   
“Well done, Crona!” Kid called, still busy keeping Black Star and Tsubaki at bay.   
“That was great, Crona!” Maka grinned, her emerald eyes sparkling.   
“Heads…UP!” Black Star roared, punching the ball towards her with a blast of his soul wave length. It sped past Maka and Crona, making a slight whistling sound as it flew.   
POW!   
The ball exploded on impact with the corner of a metal picnic table nearby, the pieces of orange rubber going everywhere. “BLACK STAR!” the shout was collective from Maka, Soul, Kid and Liz, Patty off poking a particularly large hunk of the basketball while Tsubaki shook her head and Crona tried not to pass out from the shock of the sudden, very loud noise.  
“Sorry, I guess my soul wave length is just too amazingly powerful, huh?”  
Without a ball, the game was pretty much over, Crona and Maka staying behind to pick up the pieces of the ball as the others scattered. “See you back at the house?” Soul asked, leaning against the post of one of the hoops.   
“Sure.”  
When Soul had left, Crona and Maka were left alone in the small courtyard. He plucked a small strip of black rubber out of a bush, very aware of Maka next to him as she silently stacked up a pile of rubber. “Hey, Crona. Thank you for keeping an eye on my dad for me.” Crona looked over at her, her gloved fingers pushing the bits and pieces around.   
“S-sure.”  
She turned, worry clear in her green eyes. “Now. I want you to tell me what actually happened to your face. I’ve seen people fall down staircases and break bones, I’ve been pushed down staircases and have come out of it feeling black and blue all over, but there is no way for a staircase to beat you up that badly without broken bones.” Maka grabbed his wrist, large eyes pleading. “I don’t know why you feel that you have to lie to me, but you can tell me anything. Please.”   
Crona looked at the ground beside her, unable to meet Maka’s strong gaze. “I- I…”  
Ragnaroc burst out of his back, leaning on Crona’s head. “Hey, flat stuff. You remember the last time he lied to you, right?” Crona’s companion laughed evilly as he sucked back into Crona’s blood, leaving Maka confused and Crona shocked.   
“The last time that you lied to me was when Medusa was using you to spy on the Academy…” Maka said, her grip tightening around Crona’s wrist. “Please, tell me nothing like that’s going on.”  
“No! No, of course not!” Crona yelped, waving his free hand wildly. “L-Lady Medusa’s dead, you know that!”  
“Then why are you not telling me the truth?”  
Crona frowned at the ground, wishing that it would swallow him up. “…”  
“Professor Stein!” the shout startled both Maisters, coming from Sid. “PROFESSOR STEIN!” The huge blue zombie jogged up to them. “Have either of you seen Stein?”  
“Not for about a half hour.” Maka replied, shrugging. Sid scowled, hands clenching into fists.   
“Damn. That’s about the last time I saw him too.” He headed off, waving a large hand back at them. “Well, if you do see Stein, tell him that Lord Death is only getting worse.”  
Maka paled. “What do you think that that meant?”  
“L-Lord Death has been sick all day.” Crona said, rubbing his arm as the problem about Spirit popped back into his head. “I- I think that Sp-Spirit might have something to do with it…”  
She scowled at him, making Crona cower back. “You think that my dad, who is still stuck in his bed by the way, somehow got Lord Death sick?”  
Crona nodded. “Y-yeah.”  
Maka abruptly stood, picking up the pile of rubber scraps. “Look, Crona. If you’re going to start lying to me, don’t start off by making up wild stories about Spirit. When you decide to start telling me the truth, you know where I’ll be.”  
Crona stretched a hand out after her, whispering, “Maka…”  
“Nice going, genius!” Ragnaroc snarled, bopping Crona. “I went and gave you the perfect excuse to go and blurt out your whole bullying problem, and instead you managed to get her ticked off at you for lying to her! And yeah, bringing up the whole your-dad-is-secretly-conspiring-to-get-the-shinigami-headmaster-sick thing after lying to her is not the brightest idea.”  
Crona curled into a ball, feeling a tear trickle down his cheek. “What do I do? I don’t know how to deal with Maka being mad at me…”  
He heard Ragnaroc sigh, a ball fist touching his shoulder. “I noticed that you were running through one of your exercises out on the courts earlier, that seemed to keep you calm.” Ragnaroc popped him on the head briskly. “Get up, we’re training.” When Crona made no move to…well, move, Ragnaroc whacked him again, harder. “Did I sound like I was asking? GET YOUR ASS UP, CRONA!”  
Crona got to his feet, closing his eyes and focusing on the instructions being yelled at him, his body going through the motions. “Slash to the left, duck, flip back, stab forward, block a high blow, twist and yank, sweep…”  
_“All right, Crona. Today you’ll be training on how to defend yourself with Ragnaroc. I will give you a set of instructions for the day, a repeating drill that you will do until you can do it without my having to list the moves. Your opponents will be my lovely snakes and vector arrows. If you have not memorized this drill by five this evening, you will not be receiving dinner. Understood?”_  
_“Yes, Lady Medusa.” Crona walked forward, wincing as he summoned Ragnaroc, the pop of skin as the sword slid out of his wrist still shocking to the boy._   
_“Step to the left.” Crona took a step to the left, yelping as a vector plate threw him into the point of a snake. “That was your right!”_  
_“Stupid!” Ragnaroc spat, large lips curling in disgust before sinking back into the blade._   
_“Sorry,” Crona apologized, walking back to his starting point._   
_“Step to the left.” Crona did so. “Block a high blow on your right.” Crona swung Ragnaroc up, the metal clanging against the side of a snake._  
_He had managed to memorize the entire thirty-five move drill by that evening, earning him and his Weapon supper, though Ragnaroc ate most of both. The next morning, she had him going through it alone, the speed picking up with each repetition._   
_Sweep leg to the right, block snake strike at right side, jump over vector plate, jump over vector plate, duck under wide snake strike, step left, jump forward, flip to the left, jab twice… Crona felt his worries and stress fade away as he concentrated. Spin and block, brace the right arm with the left and block overhead, turn the block into a wide sweeping attack, step forward, kneel and thrust, somersault forward, strike and rise, dodge left, dodge right, jab…_  
_By the end of the week, Crona had the drill down pat and could follow along at lightning fast speed. The next day, Medusa changed his instructions. “You’re going to try and make it through a maze that I’ve set up. You’re going to need to move fast to keep from being hurt, since I’ve riddled the path with snakes and vector plates, along with more traditional traps. You have until this evening to get to the center, collect the item inside, and get back out.” Her gold eyes studied him for a moment before narrowing. “Well? What are you waiting for?”_  
_Crona nervously approached the walls, yelping as a snake shot out of the shadows, barely managing to slice it in half before it took half of his face off. By the time that night fell, Crona was bruised, dirty, covered in black blood, very frustrated and very hungry. He had been stabbed seven times, cursed at by Ragnaroc one hundred and sixty two times, bitten twenty seven times, Vector Plated back to the start fifty three times, had almost died from her ‘more traditional’ traps thirty one times, {the traps mostly consisted of; covered pits with spikes at the bottoms, axes that swung out of the walls at shoulder level, hidden archers that he had to hunt down to keep them from shooting him, and buried capsules that released a very potent nerve potion when he accidently stepped on them} before one of Medusa’s two special snakes ‘collected’ him. In other words, it grabbed him none to gently around his torso and slithered out of the maze before dumping him out in front of Medusa. “How disappointing.”_   
_“Fuck you! That thing’s impenetrable; the only way that even you could get through the damn thing is with your magic, which we DON’T HAVE!” Ragnaroc grumbled, lips pouting on the sword._  
_Crona trembled with fear as Medusa stood slowly, her gold slit eyes cold. “Oh?”_  
_Ragnaroc chose this moment to shut up, the lips disappearing quickly. “It seems that you think that I am at your pathetic level of athleticism and prowess. To show you just how incorrect you are, I shall go in with you tomorrow.” Crona’s jaw dropped, the boy sure he misunderstood her. “My lovely will deliver your punishment for questioning me when you get to your room.” Medusa spoke over her shoulder as she padded up the stairs into the mansion. Crona flinched as he looked at the huge snake, shoulders drooping as he dragged himself into his room._  
_The next morning arrived, Crona and Medusa standing outside the maze as the sun yawned at the early hour. Crona’s punishment had been delivered swiftly, the snake sinking its dagger-like fangs into his side, pumping venom into the wound before the black blood was able to heal the punctures. Crona had spent the night whimpering on the floor, wishing his companion wouldn’t talk back to Medusa._   
_Medusa trotted in, the young boy following her quickly. She ducked fluidly, a snake flying over her head, flipping over a spiked pit with ease a second later. Crona watched in disbelief as his mother effortlessly glided around traps, flipped over axes, blocked attacks, and snapped the necks of the archers without even breaking a sweat, leaving Crona behind when he struggled to keep up. Crona quickly ran into a vector plate, having to start over from the beginning. However, by the time that the moon rose in the sky that evening, Crona had started to grasp her technique. Lady Medusa moved like her snakes, smoothly and quietly, able to sense the attacks before they hit, and block them._   
_It took over two months of hard training before Crona finally was able to defeat the maze, but when he did, it was a good feeling. In fights like this, when there wasn’t anyone that he had to hurt, Crona found that he was able to tap into a cold calmness that enabled him to instantly react to any change in his surroundings. Ragnaroc even got into the spirit and helped a little, calling out commands whenever he saw a trap or attack that Crona hadn’t. When they finally reached the center, Crona found a small table with two satchels, one marked CRONA, the other RAGNAROC. His satchel had a small sketchbook and pencils, an instructional book on how to draw just about anything, and a small silver chain necklace with a snake charm. Ragnaroc’s had a pair of white gloves, a pair of spiked silver cuffs, a studded silver shoulder strap, and a spiked silver collar, and a small bag of peppermints. “SWEET!” Ragnaroc yelled, pulling the accessories on. “Oh yeah. These rock!” The silver-clad boy whacked Crona on the head. “Hey, open the bag and give me a few of those mints, drip-wad.”_  
_Crona did as he was told, setting the sweets on the top of Ragnaroc’s round fists. As his companion busily crunched through the bag, Crona inspected his necklace. The charm was about an inch tall, the serpent made into an S form, inlaid with tiny green stones that dotted the crisscrossed pattern of scales, with the snake’s tail looped around the silver chain. Crona smiled as he pulled the thin chain around his neck, knowing that snakes were his mother’s symbol. He touched it, feeling happy that while his mother may not particularly like having a son, she was still willing to acknowledge him as hers. “Hey, Crona.” Ragnaroc said, his sugar rush apparently making him feel a little kinder towards Crona than usual. “We’ve still got to get back out of here.”_  
_Crona nodded, holding a hand out to his side and feeling Ragnaroc melt down into the sword, the black blood oozing into his hand before hardening and sharpening. Crona stared at the sword, surprised. Before, Ragnaroc had had a plain black hilt that connected to his black and silver blade, but now his hilt was dull silver with a spiked cross guard, a studded silver strap running up part of the blade. About ten minutes later, he trotted out of the maze, looking around in curiosity. Usually, whenever Crona was kicked out of the maze, Lady Medusa was there to scoff and glare at him, but this time she was nowhere to be seen._  
_Suddenly, he heard the leaves of the tree above him rustle and dove to the side, barely avoiding the sharp end of a thick spear as it buried itself where Crona had just been standing. A burly man dropped to the ground a minute later, yanking the spear up and twirling it around his body in a hypnotizing pattern. Then, quick as a flash, the man jabbed the point straight towards Crona, who had fortunately been expecting something similar and easily blocked the attack. Step to the left, slice down, switch grip and bring Ragnaroc’s blade up to guard the side, slam hilt forward, step forward, jab, try to land on feet, roll back up on feet, duck, and… there! Crona smashed the flat of Ragnaroc’s blade into his attacker’s head, making the man’s eyes roll up into his head as he dropped. A clap broke the sudden silence, Lady Medusa stepping forward as she clapped once again, a smug smile on her face. “How impressive. Not only have you made it through my little maze, but you seem to have also managed to capture an Academy agent. Well done.”_  
_“Academy?” Ragnaroc asked, voicing the question that was in Crona’s mind._  
_Medusa waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t concern either of you. Crona, if you so wish you may go and read in the library for the next few hours.”_  
_“Thank you, Lady Medusa.”_  
_“Mm. And Ragnaroc, don’t even think about vandalizing my books, understood?”_  
_“Damn it.”_  
_Medusa’s gold eyes sparked dangerously. “What was that?”_  
_A bead of sweat ran down Ragnaroc’s forehead as he backpedaled. “I said, ‘yeah, sure’.”_  
_“Indeed.”_  
“Three steps to the left, lunge, roll to your left, spin, slice, jab, and… finish.” Ragnaroc let out a breath, both Weapon and Maister breathing hard from the steady exercise. “Man, Crona. You’re out of shape. Medusa would have had you on the ta-“ Ragnaroc cut himself off, surprising Crona. “Anyway, I think I know of a way to get back on Maka’s good side, or at least to let her see that you weren’t kidding about her dad.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah! Don’t sound so surprised!” Ragnaroc thwacked Crona on the ear. “If we can find something to prove that Spirit made Lord Death sick, then she’ll have to believe us! Of course, it would probably be a good idea to soften her up with your sob story first.”  
Crona frowned up at his companion. “What?”  
“Oh, you know, the whole ‘I can’t protect myself from bullies ‘cause I’m afraid I’ll be a worse one’ thing. She’ll eat it up, and you should know it, seeing as you’re head over heels for the flattie.” Ragnaroc smirked. “Come on, let’s go spy on Maka’s dad.”  
Crona’s frown deepened as he obeyed, walking back into the school. “Ragnaroc, that sounds really bad the way that you say it.”  
“Ah, it probably sounds better than what it’ll probably end up being.”  
“You’re not helping.”  
“SAY THAT AGAIN, TWERP!” Ragnaroc began pummeling Crona’s head, growling under his breath.  
“Sorry, sorry! I take it back, okay? Ragnaroc, that hurts!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?   
> Requests, comments, observations, critiques, or any other type of writing that you feel like typing into that box below marked 'Comments'?  
> PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT!  
> Hope that you enjoyed this chapter...


	9. Artistry and Running Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Crona's childhood fluff. Yeah, that's right, you did read that correctly. Also, Maka's still mad at Crona, how will he deal with it? {BAD SUMMARY} Just saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? {listens for response...}   
> Nobody? {sighs}  
> It's going to be my birthday June first! Yay! That's why chapters will probably get pretty slow, or rather, EVEN SLOWER, than they already are. Sorry about that.   
> Sixteen years old... Wow.   
> Anyway, the eventual continuing chapters should be a little more interesting, I'm almost to the TURNING POINT! That, by the way, is when there will be more stuff going on, and a lot less memory. I think.   
> In any case, I don't own Soul Eater. Though that would be an awesome birthday present! {wiggles eyebrows hopefully} Please?

Chapter Nine  
Crona peered into the window of the medical room, silver eyes nervous as he watched Spirit, the Death Scythe seemingly content to do nothing but lay around and sleep. “Ragnaroc, this isn’t working! We’ve been here every day for the past week, and he hasn’t done anything other than sleep!”  
“That’s not my fault, idiot.”  
“What am I going to do? I can’t just go in there and demand that he tell us what he’s been doing-“  
Ragnaroc cut him off. “Why the hell not? He’s the one that’s been acting weird.”  
Crona flinched, staring at the floor. “What if he denies it? Then he’ll know that we saw him, and Maka will never talk to us again.”  
“Fine with me.”  
“Ragnaroc!”  
“Whatever. Let’s go back to your room, this place is starting to give me the creeps.”  
Halfway back, Crona heard someone call, “Hey, hold up, Crona!”   
Soul jogged up to the Maister and Weapon pair, his red eyes emotionless. “What did you say to Maka? She’s been upset ever since we’ve got back, and I noticed that she’s been ignoring you for the last few days. Whenever I try and ask her what’s wrong, Maka Maka-chops me, which is seriously uncool. So what the heck did you do to piss her off?”  
Crona looked at the floor, one hand automatically rubbing his other arm. “I-I…” He hesitated, shoulders rising defensively to his ears.  
Soul sighed and sagged slightly. “Look, Crona. Whatever you did or said, she’ll get over it. Just go and talk to her. Avoiding Maka because you’re upset is not cool.” He turned to leave, pausing to casually remark, “You know, Maka’s gonna be hanging out over at our apartment later, probably moping or something equally uncool. I’ll be hanging out at Kid’s house with Black Star and Tsubaki, so she’s gonna be there alone. You should go over.”  
“O-okay.”  
“Cool.” Soul strolled off, hands in his pockets as Crona shivered and continued on.   
When Crona got back to his room, he sat down on his bed and pulled his sketchbook out from in the chest under the bed. “So, any ideas yet?”   
“No!”   
“Sorry…”   
Crona sketched out several scenes on his page; the top right showing when Spirit had been messing with Lord Death’s tea bags, the top left picturing when he had scowled at Lord Death’s back, the entire bottom showing Spirit as he switched the pills in the bottles, with two eyes colored the same silvery-gold that Spirit’s seemed to flash a lot lately separating the top half of the page and the bottom half.  
When he had finished, Crona carefully tore the page out, neatly folded it and tucked the page into his shirt. Turning back to his sketchbook, he tapped the eraser against the page absent-mindedly. A soft trill brought his attention up to his solitary window, a black cat lightly jumping down into Crona’s room. “Hello, there…” Crona smiled softly at the feline, offering a hand towards it. “I didn’t know that anything could get up to that window.” The cat padded over, allowing him to run his fingers through its velvety fur.   
“You’re quite beautiful.” Crona leaned back to watch the feline settle into a crouch, majestic gold eyes staring back at the boy as he picked his pencil back up. He quickly sketched out the main outline, just in case it decided to move, the picture slowly fading into focus as he added more and more detail.  
Finally he added one more flourish and nodded in satisfaction. “You’re the nicest subject that I’ve had to draw for a while. What do you think?” Crona spun the sketchbook around for the cat to inspect, the feline blinking lazily before yawning widely and going to sleep on his chair. Crona grinned as he slid off of his bed, pulling his mattress up for a moment to grab a large manila envelope before letting it flop back down. Opening the flap, he gently slid out a small stack of papers and a second sketchbook. The papers were the most personal of Crona’s more recent works, some of which included; a sketch he had drawn of a dream he had had in which he was kissing Maka in the school forest, several other assorted drawings of Maka, a drawing of Medusa, a sketch of Medusa with Crona, a detailed drawing of the Little One, and other sketches of Crona with his new friends. The sketchbook was the one that Medusa had given him years ago when he and Ragnaroc had made it through her maze. Its pages were filled with amateur sketches and drawings, pictures of snakes, the Little One, Ragnaroc, nature scenes, Lady Medusa’s castle, and Lady Medusa herself the most prevalent images. There were four pages that Crona turned to the most, though. Flipping through, Crona quickly found two of them. In the midst of sloppy outlines and poor-to-non-existent shading, these two sheets were drawn out smoothly yet carefully, the strong strokes capturing the coils and scales of Medusa’s two favorite snakes, their black slit eyes staring out at the viewer with pride. Elegant script noted tips on how to get the snake’s lean form to look round, other notes explaining how to draw scales without having to cover the entire form, so on. Several sketches of Ragnaroc sneered out from underneath the serpents, both in his sword form and in the goofy looking figure form, the latter leaning on a surprised looking Crona. Medusa’s fluid signature flourished across the bottom corner of the right page, Crona running his fingertips across it.   
A later pair of pages were completely different, the artist’s hand obviously heavy on the pencil, all of the sketches deeply imprinted on the page in thick, clumsy strokes. These sheets were covered in skulls, vines, spikes, fire, and many different styles of X’s. Ragnaroc’s name was drawn out in the center of both pages, boxed in by firmly drawn rectangles.  
Crona smiled and shook his head, remembering the day that Medusa had added her pictures.  
_Six-year-old Crona frowned at the mirror sitting beside him, growling in frustration as he erased his carefully drawn lines for the hundredth time. “Why can’t I get this right? Drawing you should be easy. You’re completely made up of plain shapes!”_  
_“The hell I am!” Ragnaroc snarled, cracking a fist into Crona’s head, the blow sending his pencil flying across the sketched figure. “I am very extraordinary, and don’t you forget it!”_  
_“I’m sorry!” Crona yelped, hands flying protectively over his head. “I was just saying that you shouldn’t be this hard to sketch out!”_  
_“Fuck you!”_  
_“I said I was sorry!”_  
_“Stop squabbling, you two.” Medusa’s cold tone instantly made both boys freeze, Crona dropping his pencil in surprise. “What’s going on?”_  
_“Damn kid can’t draw shit!” Ragnaroc sneered, leaning on Crona’s head. “He’s been out here for the past two hours, trying unsuccessfully to draw my handsome mug.”_  
_Gold eyes took in the heavily smudged page, lines drawn and redrawn so many times that the marks were made inerasable. “Start out with the basic shapes and work your way from there.”_  
_Crona pouted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few hours. The head alone won’t get the right shape, and when I do get the right shape, it’s always the wrong size.”_  
_Medusa crouched, picking up Crona’s pencil. “Let me see that.” Crona handed the sketchbook over hesitantly, worried that she would take it away but not wanting to anger his mother. “You need to focus less on the details at this point, and more on the general figure.” Medusa flipped to a clean page before dipping the tip of the pencil to the paper, lines flowing in gentle circles and ovals. Crona watched in surprise as the ever-distant, fear and respect inducing cold Lady Medusa sat cross legged on her vector tail, one of her sharp canines barely biting the edge of her lip as she concentrated. The abstract shapes connected and smoothed out, becoming two main forms. Medusa glanced up occasionally at Crona and Ragnaroc, slit pupils slicing into them as the two forms began to grow in detail, becoming perfect replicas of the Maister and Weapon. Crona’s mouth was hanging open in shock as she shaded in the eyes before nodding in satisfaction. “There. You see? If you start out with the main shapes, and slowly work your way up to the details, then your picture will be far better than a vaguely formed figure with a multitude of details.” She eyed him for a moment, her mouth twisting in displeasure. “Crona, close your mouth.”_  
_Crona snapped his mouth shut momentarily before a question slipped out. “H-how do you know how to do this?”_  
_Medusa smirked, flipping up her hood with an amused huff. “Why shouldn’t I?” Crona flinched as her fingertips brushed the tip of his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Well?”_  
_“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I just didn’t…” Ragnaroc snorted and cuffed him on the ear._   
_“Moron. Crona does have a point, though. Why the hell do you draw? That seems like sissy stuff to me.”_  
_Medusa’s smile stretched eerily, eyes glinting. “How interesting. ‘Sissy stuff’, hmm?” She turned back to the book, hand making long, sweeping trails of lead against the white pages. Serpents in mid-writhe, intertwined coils dancing in complicated patterns spread out against the pages, Medusa’s pencil sliding smoothly from one twist to another. Faint crosshatching served as scales, Crona noticing as she streaked the eraser in their eyes to make them seem more rounded. Setting the pencil to the side and placing the sketchbook squarely on the ground in front of her, Medusa closed her eyes and gently touched the heads of both snakes. “Nake Snake Cobra Cobera!”_   
_Crona gasped as the snakes’ figures wriggled, pulling themselves off of the page to slither up his legs and torso, wrapping tightly around his neck. They hissed in unison at his companion, Ragnaroc answering snarl weak. Crona shook violently in fear as the gray serpents’ fangs hung not an inch from his face, their bodies brushing up against his soft flesh. “Still think that drawing well is ‘Sissy stuff’, Ragnaroc?” Medusa asked, smirking widely as she watched Crona quiver._   
_“No! No! It’s cool!” Ragnaroc’s voice was shaky. “Seriously!”_  
_“Indeed.” Medusa tapped the page, the serpents immediately slithering back down to sink into two dimensional pictures once more. “Sadly, I can only bring the images of snakes to life with my magic, but by the time I had figured that out I had learned how to draw a multitude of other things.”_  
_She eyed the page thoughtfully and wrote out a few suggestive notes around the images before handing the book back to Crona. “In any case, try it again.”_  
_Crona tapped the cover, knowing that he drew better after a successful attempt. “I think that I’ll draw a few birds first, I’ve gotten really good at drawing birds.” He flipped through the pages, looking for the smudged sheet. Suddenly both Maister and Weapon gasped in pain, their blood boiling in their veins. Lady Medusa’s gold eyes were cold as she watched, a glowing violet light streaming from her hand to Crona’s chest._  
_“I don’t make suggestions.” The words froze as they left his mother’s lips, seeming to drop heavily into his ears. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. It’s really quite a simple arrangement, don’t you think?”_  
_“Y-yes, Lady Medusa!” Crona gasped, dropping the sketchbook and pencil as a particularly strong wave of agony swept over them. Ragnaroc cursed breathlessly as she nodded in satisfaction, releasing them from her spell._  
_“Well then. Let’s try this again, shall we?” Lady Medusa didn’t wait for a response. “Crona, try drawing Ragnaroc again.”_  
_“Y-yes, Lady Medusa.” Crona shakily picked up the rumpled book and fallen pencil, flipping it to a blank page. He started off stiffly, expecting a blow or scolding for not doing the sketch right, but as Lady Medusa merely watched, slit pupils studying his drawing, he relaxed slightly. To his surprise, as he ever-so-slowly faded the form into the comical contours of his companion, it actually looked somewhat like Ragnaroc, unlike all of his other sketches._  
_“Well done.” Medusa gave him a short, approving smile before hopping lightly off of her snake tail and walking off, leaving a stunned pair behind her._  
_“Did snake lady actually just give you a… complement?” Ragnaroc asked, voice disbelieving._  
The other set of drawings had come a few months later, a couple of weeks after he and Ragnaroc had eaten their first human soul. Crona had gotten a few more such art lessons from Lady Medusa, his drawings getting better each time. Crona worked as hard as he could to get better, since drawing was the only thing that made Medusa tolerate his company without him having to hurt or destroy some poor creature or person. Sometimes, when he did an especially good job, she would even give him one of her incredibly rare smiles. Not her wide evil smile, not her customary amused and scornful smirk, not even her thin, fake, patronizing smile that she gave him a lot when she sent him out on her little ‘missions’. No, this smile was rare, it was fleeting, it was small, but it was real and it made Crona strive above and beyond to gain the honor of seeing that flash of teeth directed at his work.   
_Crona had just finished a realistic sketch of Lady Medusa’s castle, back resting comfortably against a tree as he shaded on texture and depth. Suddenly, he yelped loudly as the much larger version of Ragnaroc ripped himself out of Crona’s back, the pain far worse now than before. “Hey, what the fuck do you find so great about scribbling out the shit you see?” As Ragnaroc spoke, his large fingers tugged absently at the corners of Crona’s mouth, stretching his face into uncomfortable contortions._   
_“Ow! W-Wady Medusha wikes it wh-when I dwah- Wagnawok, p-pwease stop, I can’t deaw wif this!” Ragnaroc withdrew his fingers from Crona’s mouth, the smaller boy giving off a relieved sigh before grimacing slightly as he felt large gloved hands rubbing themselves off in his hair._  
_“So, you’re basically sucking the fuck up to that bitch? Damn, Crona.”_  
_“N-no I’m not…” Crona brushed a hand over the pages, stroking his pencil marks gently. “I-I really enjoy drawing.”_  
_“Fuck that.” Ragnaroc grabbed the book from Crona, ignoring his companion’s horrified complaints. “Damn… This is such prissy shit! I could do better than this!” The heavily muscled Weapon smirked, snatching the pencil out of Crona’s grasp. “Fucking watch and learn, dick.”_  
_Crona flinched as Ragnaroc’s giant hand forced his head into an upright position, wincing as the sketchbook was smacked against the top of his head. He waited patiently as his head was pushed forward from the pressure of Ragnaroc’s drawing, the strokes rough and sharp. Finally Ragnaroc huffed out a pleased chuckle and dropped both book and pencil down into Crona’s lap. “Now that’s what her Snakeness probably wants to see, not your pathetic crap.”_  
_Crona’s jaw dropped in surprise at the fact his large friend could draw, albeit very roughly and jerkily. “Wow… that’s amazing, Ragnaroc!”_  
_“Hell yeah!” Ragnaroc’s voice was smug, but Crona thought that he might be able to catch a hint of embarrassment hidden away in his companion’s tone. “Damn well couldn’t be worse than that fucking crap that you drew; birds and plants and all that shit.”_  
_“B-but you drew a p-plant…”_  
_“Damn it, Crona! Those are vines, and they’re fucking cool!” Ragnaroc’s fist left Crona seeing stars, the Weapon huffily withdrawing back into Crona’s bloodstream after knocking the other boy senseless._  
Crona smiled softly and shut the book, tucking all of the drawings back into the envelope and tucking it safely under the bed again. He ate a quick supper, most of it going to the ravenous Ragnaroc, setting a small dish of milk out for the sleeping cat and doing the dishes before heading out to Maka’s apartment. He decided to walk by the medical chambers and look in on Spirit one more time, half hoping that he could catch the Death Scythe doing something that was plainly bad.   
Spirit was sitting up on his bed, looking bored out of his mind. Crona was going to sigh and walk off without disturbing the older man, but sky blue eyes flashed up and caught his pale silver orbs, Spirit instantly cheering up. “Crona!”  
“H-hi, Mr. Spirit.” Crona shuffled into the room, eyes on the floor.   
“What’s up?”  
“N-not much.”  
Spirit groaned, flopping back on his pillows. “Come on! Can’t you throw me a bone? There is nothing to do in here, the only people I see are you, Stein, and Lord Death!” Crona flinched as Spirit’s eyes flashed golden white momentarily. “It’s like all of the lovely women in the world have abandoned me! Not even my own daughter has come in to see me!”  
Crona frowned, confused. “Wh-why don’t you just go out? You’re able to walk just fine.” He didn’t notice as Spirit stiffened, eyes changing to that odd color again, his gaze fixed on his shoes.   
“What?”  
“I s-saw you walking around before-“ Crona paled, remembering that when he had seen that was when he and Ragnaroc had been spying on Spirit. “Y-You kn-know what? I-I was p-probably j-just im-magining things. I-I’ve really g-got to g-go, I-I’m going to g-go t-talk to Maka.” Crona mentally cursed as he heard his slight stutter flick up into overdrive, his nerves frazzled.  
He looked up just in time to see Spirit’s eyes flare brightly, the golden white orbs fixed on him in cold calculation, before they returned to their normal dark blue. “You’re going to see my baby girl?” Instantly the Death Scythe grabbed Crona’s shoulders, frantically shaking the terrified boy. “Please, you have to get her to come visit me! My sweet angel baby, why haven’t you come to see your poor papa?”  
Crona squeaked in fright as the surprisingly strong Weapon shook him back and forth, wailing in his face. Spirit finally let him go to bawl into his hands, Crona falling back hard onto the floor. “I-I’ll see what I can d-do.” He picked himself up and left as quickly as he could without being rude, clicking the door shut behind him with some relief. Crona completely missed Spirit’s eyes turning blond again as he stared after the young Maister, his gaze unreadable.   
Crona trotted down the stairs that led from the entrance of the DWMA down to the entrance to Death City, absently counting the steps as he went. The fact that the school had eighty-eight steps was a fact that Crona was keeping to pull Kid out of one of his deep depression moments, though it really wouldn’t surprise Crona if his symmetry obsessed friend already knew.  
Crona walked past bustling shops and happy homes, keeping close to the sides of the buildings to avoid the loud throngs of Death City residents. While he had gotten to the point where he could be around large amounts of people, Crona was by no means happy in crowds. He relaxed slightly as the building that Maka and Soul lived in came into view, picking his pace up to a light jog. Crona slumped against the closest wall when he finally made it into the building, closing the door against the noise and erratic movement of the street and taking a deep breath before continuing on.  
He knocked on Maka’s door, biting his lip and rubbing his arm as he stared a hole in the floor. “Who is it?”   
“C-Crona.”  
“…”  
Crona’s shoulders went up to touch his ears. “M-Maka?”  
He heard a faint sigh, then Maka’s voice spoke up again, sounding vaguely reluctant. “The door’s open.” Crona hesitantly walked in, quietly closing the door behind him. “What do you want, Crona?” He flinched and looked at his feet, hearing tired frustration in her tone.  
“S-Soul said that you were u-upset, and th-that I should come talk with y-you…” Crona trailed off as Maka’s emerald eyes darkened dangerously.   
“What… do… you… want… Crona?” Maka drug out her words, a finger tapping out a steady rhythm against the book she was reading. “You lied to me, and then you avoid me, and then suddenly you want to talk?”  
Crona flinched at each word, huddling into himself at Maka’s irritated admonishment. “I-I’m s-sorry…”  
“Crona, I don’t know what to tell you! The last time you lied to me, you ended up running away from the academy because you had put one of Medusa’s snakes into Miss Marie’s coffee. I don’t want to wake up one day and find you gone again, I couldn’t stand it! If you can’t tell me what’s going on, I really don’t want to talk with you right now.”   
Crona pulled together what little courage he had and nodded. “A-alright. Ab-bout a week after you left is when Spirit first woke up, and Ragnaroc and I noticed that his eyes changed colors every now and then. I don’t know if that has anything to do with the stuff he’s been doing, but-“ he shrugged. “A-anyway, the morning that you guys came back, D-Doctor Stein was making up some t-tea bags for Lord Death. He h-had to leave to do something, and Sp-Spirit had me go get him some aspirin, and when I c-came back in…” Crona’s hands clenched into fists, the move bolstering his courage. “Sp-Spirit had done something to Lord Death’s tea bags. Later on, D-Doctor Stein came back and told us that L-Lord Death wasn’t feeling well.”  
He risked a quick glance up at Maka’s face, only to flinch at the harsh glare that she was giving him. “You’re blaming my dad for Lord Death’s illness again?”  
“I-I’m just t-telling you what I-“  
Maka got up, green eyes flashing angrily. “While Spirit is an ass of a father, and just a creep in general, he would never hurt or betray Lord Death!”   
Crona hurried to continue telling her what he had seen, hoping that the blond Maister would calm down. “L-later that day, he was exchanging pills in one of the bottles in th-the medical chambers-“  
“Crona, stop right there. How dare you come over here and accuse my father?”  
Crona waved his hands and shook his head. “N-no! I-I’m not accusing an-anyone! P-please, I just wanted someone else to know th-that Spirit’s able t-to walk, though I d-don’t know why he’s hiding it…”  
“Oh so now, not only has my father for whatever reason made Lord Death sick, but he’s also pretending to be bedridden?”  
Crona gave her a relieved smile, glad that she understood his nervous ramblings. “E-exactly!”  
He yelped as she snarled, gloved fists clenching. “Crona, that’s really, really low. Accusing an invalid is… It’s really low. In fact, if you look at the evidence, it’s you who would be the more likely suspect if anything was actually done to Lord Death.”   
Crona paled. “Wh-what?”  
“You’re the only person in the academy that’s ever betrayed Lord Death, other than Medusa. You’re half witch, so you technically might have the power to hurt a shinigami. You even have motives!” Each word slammed into Crona with the force of a physical blow. He began to shake, his entire body quivering in shock and pain. “After all, you could be mad that your room is still the cell that you were trapped before Medusa’s death. Or, you could be frustrated at the fact that Lord Death confiscated all of the souls that Ragnaroc ate. Now that I think of it, that would make perfect sense! It would certainly explain why you’ve been lying to m-me…” Maka’s voice cracked and faded on the last word, emerald eyes widening. Crona felt something inside him crack as he saw the three emotions that he had had nightmares about seeing in her eyes, in her eyes; pain, anger, and the absolute worst, a momentary flash of fear.   
He froze, feeling that crack grow inside him. Crona’s mind flowed from one emotion to another; pain that she was mad at him, hurt that she would ever think that he would betray or attack her, and then his mind just went blank under overwhelming panic, the only thought left in his mind being to go somewhere safe and hide.  
Backing up, Crona pulled the door open and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I just now realized that this is a cliffhanger. HA HA! Poor readers, the few that there are.   
> To make up for this grievous act, I shall reveal... something.  
> In the next chapter, there will be- for the first time in this story- a point of view from someone else other than Crona or Ragnaroc! Shan't tell you who, though.  
> For my birthday gift, I would really appreciate it if you all would; {can you guess?} Review, Comment, or - PRETTY PLEASE- Request. While I have a vague knowledge of where this story is going, I have no clue how to end it yet. And if you comment or review, I'll know if you all even like this story or not, and how to fix it or make it better.  
> My gift -sort of- to you... Circus ~ Soul Eater by ultimatemeister123. I really liked their work.  
> I hope that you're enjoying reading my story!


	10. Misunderstandings and Old Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crona is reminded of an old battle in his and Maka's past, draws a mysterious picture, and gets beat up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOHOOO! My tenth chapter, and boy is this one long! This is the first chapter that has some from Maka's point of view, so that's cool too. Sorry, but that's gonna end up being pretty short. Also, this is the first memory that I actually looked up the video clip to reference- {which is why there are any mistakes in the 'Little One' memory}- which took FOREVER, just so y'all know. In any case, I'm seriously pumped, since this is the TURNING POINT CHAPTER! YESSSS!  
> Now that you, {the reader} -  
> The reader; "Uh... duh, of course 'you' is talking about me, just get on with it already!"  
> Me; "Sorry, sorry. As I was saying-ah, writing..."  
> -have been properly intrigued, on with the chapter! Whoop whoop!  
> I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER! [sticks tongue out at actual owners, then apologizes and sulks for a while] Enjoy!

Chapter Ten  
Maka’s brain finally caught up with her, pulling her out of her haze, and she realized what she had just done. She had just yelled at Crona that he could have betrayed all of his friends, accused him of horrible things out of anger. “Crap!” Maka had seen the pain in his silver eyes as she momentarily entertained the thought that he really could have made Lord Death ill, before his pain changed into fear. The lavender-headed boy had slowly backed up before yanking the door open and sprinting away.  
“Maka, you can really be stupid sometimes,” she growled at herself before running after him. “Crona, please wait!”  
Crona would never take out his anger on anyone at the academy; in fact Maka couldn’t remember the last time that she had actually ever seen the gentle Maister mad at all. Why did her temper get struck up so hard when he had clearly been uncomfortable telling her about Spirit in the first place? Crona didn’t lie, and the rare times that he did, such as where his injuries had come from, they were highly transparent fibs that he rushed through jerkily, refusing to make eye contact for a good five minutes after telling them. However, when he was talking about Spirit, he did try to look at her. So why couldn’t she have just listened to him? “Crona!”  
She burst out the doors of her apartment building, head whipping from left to right as she tried to figure out where the timid boy had gone. “CRONA!”  
~~~CRONA’S POV~~~  
Crona’s vision was beginning to blur as he ran into an alley, tears welling up as he leaned heavily against the wall.  
“Crona!”  
He flinched at the sound of Maka’s yell, knowing that she was probably furious. Who could blame her? Not only did she most likely think that he was trying to kill Lord Death, but now it looked like he had been trying to shift the blame onto Spirit. Crona knew from experience that running was a signal of fear, and the only reason that Maka would think that he would have for running was guilt.  
“Why couldn’t I just stay there?” His agonized whisper was hoarse, Crona’s throat sealing up as his mind pulled up the image of Maka’s fear-filled eyes. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”  
His legs gave out underneath him, sending Crona sliding down against the rough brick wall, the ragged building’s wall tearing into his back. Crona huddled on the ground, tears dripping onto the dirt as he desperately tried to keep his madness repressed.  
“Let me help, please!” Raven’s voice was sad, Crona’s shadow having a steep frown on its face. “Seeing you in so much pain hurts me…”  
“N-no, I can’t.” Crona gripped his hair tightly, focusing on keeping his emotions somewhat in check. “I c-can’t, I can’t!”  
“Alright, alright, just calm down.” Raven soothed, the shadow looking concerned. “Everything’s going to be fine. I won’t meld with you unless you want to, you know that.”  
“N-nothing’s fine, Maka’s mad at me!”  
Raven frowned, eyes and voice growing dangerous. “I can make it so that that girl will never upset you ag-“  
“NO!” Crona growled, hands clenching into tight fists as his lips pulled up into a snarl. “Never, ever threaten Maka!”  
“Sorry, sorry.” Raven apologized. “What can I do to help?”  
“N-nothing. Just leave me alone, p-please?” Crona could feel a sob welling up in his chest and he just wanted everything to leave him alone.  
“If that will help you. I hope you’ll reconsider and play with me.” Raven faded away, a tear rolling down its cheek as it did so.  
The sob ripped itself out of Crona’s mouth, his shoulders bobbing up and down as his thin frame wracked itself with the force of his sobs. He muffled his pained cries in his hands, just letting the agony out.  
He knew that he was a despicable person, a murderer, a liar, a freak, and just an overall monster, but Maka had made him feel like he might be able to redeem himself one day. She was the first person to see him as a boy and not just a pathetic waste of a son or a horrifying monster. And now, the look in Maka’s eyes, the thought that Maka felt that he was something to be feared, was killing him.  
No, he could deal with being killed, he knew that he deserved it, but the agony of having the first person who didn’t look at him with disgust or terror see him for the monster he was for something that he hadn’t actually even done was far worse.  
That particular look was one that he had only seen in Maka’s eyes once before; the first time that they had met.  
_Crona had gotten the hang of how to half-control Lady Medusa’s madness; the insanity he was forced into when she sent her snake to meld with Crona and Raven. He was now able to speak a few words with a clear mind, though he was never able to stay sane for more than a few moments at a time unless he was startled or calm. Crona had found a long time ago that it was far better to just stay huddled safely in utter insanity rather than try and oppose Lady Medusa’s overwhelming will._  
_Crona had been staying out of the fight he had just been in, sitting with Raven and merely sadly observing. He wasn’t sure if what had just gone on could really be counted as a fight, after all, they were a huge crowd of big and burly men that practically oozed danger. Then there was Crona. It wasn’t really too much of a challenge to kill them all, his crazy side relishing their terror filled shrieks of agony as they were dispatched. Ragnaroc gagged slightly as he swallowed their souls, cracking one large gloved fist against Crona’s back and yelling at him for ruining the taste. “Idiot! You can’t just kill them, you have to let them get scared enough to shit their pants! That’s the only way to get that minty flavor, this way they taste like burnt rubber.”_  
_“Oh, shut up Ragnaroc.” Crazy Crona smirked, folding his arms and staring defiantly up at his Weapon._  
_“Good work, Crona.” Crona and Raven flinched as Medusa’s snake hissed into Crona’s ear, the shadowy reptile almost seeming to grin at their fear. “Oh, how interesting. Stay there, and put on a show for me.”_  
_“Y-yes, Lady Medusa.” Crona grabbed control over his body long enough to nod and grab his arm in discomfort, turning to look at the beautiful glass window at the back of the church. His artist’s eye was approving of the delicate design, while his bubbling insanity was wondering how much it would hurt to smash the window and slice himself to ribbons on it. Ragnaroc sank back into Crona’s back, making the boy wince as his back resealed itself._  
_The huge double doors swung open behind him, two sets of footsteps trotting into the hall. One was softer and slightly more hesitant than the other, Crona’s training instantly informing the boy that that was the weaker of the two and therefore the better target to attack._  
_“What the hell? He’s in there all by himself. What happened to his Weapon partner?” The voice was that of a young teen boy, confused but confident._  
_“No… There’s no way…” This voice was female, making Crona wince. He was bad around girls, not having any experience with females other than Lady Medusa. Lady Medusa also hadn’t really had him interact or attack any women in years, so he was very unsure as to how to proceed here. This girl sounded horrified, which put Crona slightly at ease. That was something that he had heard in every person’s voice that he had attacked for Lady Medusa, so he had almost gotten used to it. Almost._  
_“Now what?” The boy spoke again, Crona finally turning to see who he was probably going to have to kill soon. The boy had spiky white hair, was wearing an orange and white jacket and jeans, and had ruby red eyes. The girl was standing in front of the boy, apparently in command. Crona frowned momentarily, confused. Why would the weaker of the two be in charge? He shifted, not knowing how to deal with that. She had dirty blond hair in pigtails, was wearing a long black jacket over a white shirt, yellow vest, and red skirt, and her piercing green eyes were filled with freaked out fear._  
_“Lady Medusa, it looks like two others have arrived.” Ragnaroc spoke politely, mouth poking out of Crona’s left arm, caution in every word. He had cursed out Lady Medusa earlier, and Crona was still feeling the pain from the torture she had inflicted on them._  
_“Keep it down, Ragnaroc. You need to be quiet now.” Crona warned, both boys having learned the hard way that Lady Medusa seemed to enjoy people’s reactions at Ragnaroc’s entrance. Crona always hated it when Lady Medusa wanted them to put on a show for her, his part a lot harder and more painful to play than his Weapon partner’s._  
_“I’m reading the souls of a Meister and a Weapon, and both of them are directly in front of us.” Crona stared at the ground, hoping she would just go away. “That means…” No, no, no! Lady Medusa was going to be very unhappy if- “That Meister standing there… has a Weapon inside of his body.”_  
_Crona stiffened and glanced towards the girl. Oh no…_  
_The boy beside her shifted into a scythe, the girl grasping his handle firmly. “What?” Crona nodded, relieved. The reason that the girl was in charge was because that she was the Maister. That made sense. “What are you talking about, Maka?” So, the girl’s name was Maka. “You’re telling me that there’s a Weapon inside that dude?”_  
_“Not for long, it’s coming out.” Crona sighed tiredly, knowing that she was right and wondering absently how she knew that. He stared at the ground, one hand grasping his arm as his shoulders sagged._  
_Suddenly, pain shot across his shoulders and up through his neck and into his head, making him cry out hoarsely. Crona grabbed his head as flashing pain throbbed through his head, pained gasps erupting from his lips. He twisted from side to side, trying uselessly to get rid of his crushing headache, wishing that Lady Medusa’s shows didn’t have to be quite so painful. The agony only got worse which made Crona throw his head and torso back, his arms dangling limply at his sides, howling loudly at the ceiling. Crona’s pained cries got louder as Ragnaroc forced his black blood to snap and crack inside of him, feeling almost as bad as the one time that his Weapon had accidently broken three of his ribs. Throwing the top of his torso back forward, he smashed his fists firmly against his head as Ragnaroc slowly pushed himself out of Crona’s back, the process slow and torturous. Finally, the skin ruptured and Ragnaroc gushed out of the top of his shoulders in a geyser of black blood, making a loud, long-drawn out scream burst out of Crona’s chest. Ragnaroc was really laying it on thickly, forming his limbs one after another but leaving his white x-ed face for last, x-ed out eyes rolling around freakishly for a moment before settling in one place._  
_“Guh-gup goop geek!” Ragnaroc hiccupped, turning to stare at the other Maister and Weapon pair. Crona heard the girl gasp quietly behind him and felt a momentary twinge of unease. What if he wasn’t supposed to hurt girls? “Goop ge-geek!” One of Ragnaroc’s hard fists bonked into Crona’s still-sore head, making his head throb even worse._  
_“That hurts me!” Ragnaroc’s other fist came around, his knuckles burrowing into Crona’s lavender hair and burning the skin underneath. “It hurts! It hurts it hurts!” Crona whimpered as Ragnaroc bullied him, the larger boy’s fists crushing his head. It also didn’t help that Crona was having to stagger around to keep their balance as Ragnaroc focused on tormenting him instead of staying still. “Stop moving around like that… You’re squeezing me!” Ragnaroc giggled madly and started jabbing Crona. “Stop poking me… OW!” Ragnaroc had smushed Crona’s nose up against his head. “Stop already! Don’t poke my nose!” Scowling, Ragnaroc gave Crona’s head a sharp whack. “You’re bruising me!”_  
_As Ragnaroc returned to noogying both sides of Crona’s head, Crona’s temper broke out- a very rare occurrence, and he yelled at his companion, an even rarer occurrence. “STOP IT, NOW! I’ve had enough already!”_  
_Ragnaroc reared back, waving his arms in an I-give-up motion. “Now, now, calm down Crona.” The Weapon smirked crazily as he mocked Crona. “You’re so scary when you’re stressed out like this.”_  
_“Okay, this is getting weird.” Crona had almost forgotten the girl, Maka, but at her muttered words he looked back up towards her. “You should know that the hunting of human souls is strictly forbidden.” Crona frowned again, exchanging a quick confused glance with Ragnaroc. “Are you students? I haven’t seen you at the Academy.”_  
_Crona was floored. “At the where? What Academy?” He ignored Ragnaroc as the other boy’s hands squished his face into uncomfortable positions, having sadly gotten used to his Weapon’s overbearing and highly painful antics over the years. “Anyway, she said it was okay to eat the human souls.” It occurred to him after he had spoken that he probably shouldn’t have brought up Lady Medusa even in passing, but it was too late now. He drooped a little at the punishment that they were likely to receive when they returned to Lady Medusa’s castle later. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it if she said it was okay.” Crona cringed, realizing that he had mentioned Lady Medusa yet again, but fortunately Maka seemed more focused on the fact that Ragnaroc had snacked on the human souls than on Lady Medusa. Crona fidgeted under Maka’s emerald-eyed stare, feeling Lady Medusa’s cold insanity taking hold over him again as he lost his concentration under this pretty girl’s fierce gaze. He felt warmth rise in his cheeks as he looked down and to the side to avoid her continuous stare and sighed. “I’m, uh, I’m not good at talking with girls.” His eyes flicked momentarily up to snatch a peek at Maka before returning to bore a hole in the ground as he thought of Lady Medusa and flinched. “They make me nervous.”_  
_Ragnaroc leaned over next to Crona’s head and grinned. “Never mind that, her soul looks tasty.”_  
_Maka didn’t look intimidated in the least, frowning at Ragnaroc as she held her ground fearlessly. Crona wished he was that confident. “Meisters and their Weapons are not allowed to collect human souls for any reason. We hunt only the souls that have become Keishen eggs.” She slid back into a more solid stance, bringing her Scythe up into an attack position. “Now it’s my duty to stop you. You will not hunt any more humans, you hear me?”_  
_Ragnaroc poked Crona in the head. “Let’s get her, Crona.” Crona nodded wordlessly, still not able to meet the girl’s green gaze. He wished that they could just let these two go, but Lady Medusa wanted a show, so a show they would perform for her._  
_“Mm.”_  
_Ragnaroc pulled off one of his flashier moves, dissolving right then and there into his black blood form, the obsidian droplets dangling in midair above Crona, who was still holding his arm. Without letting go he reached up into the ink-black mass, grabbing Ragnaroc’s handle and pulling down, the black blood shaping itself into the sharp blade that Crona knew so well._  
_Maka blanched. It was barely noticeable, but she had flinched. “It turned into a Weapon. A Sword!”_  
_Crona hesitated, knowing that this was going to be the other pair’s final moments, before twirling Ragnaroc in a neat X and darting forward, letting his Weapon’s blade tip strike up sparks against the hard floor as he ran. “He’s gonna strike from below!” Maka’s Weapon companion yelled as the girl easily swung the large Scythe around. Crona let Lady Medusa’s madness envelope him so that it wouldn’t hurt as much as he destroyed the beautiful girl and her Weapon. Crazy Crona lurched in shock as the Scythe’s blade blocked his attack, lurching forward from his momentum as Maka merely braced herself with the weight of her Weapon’s blade. He gasped in surprise, most of his opponents usually having been sliced in half by now._  
_“Stop this!” the girl yelled, smashing the back of her fist against Crona’s cheek with enough force to crack his head to one side._  
_Crona’s shock pulled him out of his insanity, whimpering sadly, “Y-you’re going to start poking at me also?” Maka swung her companion over her head, the blade flashing down to cut him in two, but Crona jumped back in time to avoid the blow. Maka planted the base of her Scythe’s blade firmly on the ground and flipped over the Weapon, using her momentum to neatly slam on top of Crona. He smashed into the ground, her knees digging painfully into his back. Maka jumped back up, Scythe swinging up to deliver the final blow._  
_“You’ve got him now!” The girl roared an adrenaline packed howl, apparently encouraged by her partner’s words._  
_“RaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”_  
_Crona glanced up at her as he spun and bounced back up on his feet._  
_Ker-shlang!_  
_Raven huddled protectively over Crona’s mental form as Medusa’s shadowy snake chuckled darkly._  
_Crazy Crona looked almost disappointedly at the red and black blade that had just smashed into his shoulder, automatically grabbing his arm even though the comfort gesture wasn’t necessary for the insane version of himself. He heard Maka gasp in a scared breath, and looked up to see her pupils contract as her hands began to shake._  
_A bright tear rolled down Raven’s cheek as he stood in front of Crona, sneaking a glance over at a discarded branch longingly but unable to move from his post as Medusa’s snake eyed him in amusement. “Did you think you could cut him in half?” Medusa’s voice echoed in Crona’s mind, Crazy Crona hearing the words as his silver eyes met wide emerald orbs._  
_“Oh, no. Not with a stroke like that one.” He barely noticed as droplets of black blood plopped heavily to the floor, oozing from the shallow cut that curved around his upper shoulder to his lower back, but Maka did._  
_“Black?” she breathed, her voice starting to break. “Black blood?”_  
_Crona leaned in beside the girl’s frozen figure, whispering in her ear. “Yes. That’s right.” Maka turned her head to look at him. “My blood is black.” She jumped two large strides back, putting some space in between her and him. Neither Crona nor his insanity could blame her for that; he was pretty scary when he went nuts._  
_“What’s up with this guy?” Crona faintly heard her Weapon ask. “His body’s way freaky!” Crazy Crona flashed a quick grin at the other boy’s too true statement, staggering a few steps after them. He had to admit though, Maka had a lot of courage. She was still holding her ground instead of turning tail and running, though Crona could see how terrified she was of him. His opinion of the other two was only increasing by the minute, which was making the fact that he was going to have to hurt them making him feel worse and worse._  
_“I think I have an idea.” Maka was talking to her Weapon partner, though her eyes never left him. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I think that his blood itself is a Weapon.” Crona stared at the ground, wondering how this girl knew all of these terrible secrets. The only people who knew about him was Lady Medusa, and all of his dead victims. “I was able to cut through his skin, but his blood hardened and the blade stopped completely when I hit his blood vessels.”_  
_“Well, if you’re right, then how do you propose we go about beating him?” Crona smiled sadly, thinking that that was impossible. No one could defeat him, other than his mother._  
_“None of our normal attacks will work. I’m not even sure Witch Hunter will help.” Maka looked frustrated, fear dimming as her anger swelled. “If only I could shoot my soul wave length directly at him like Black Star does, I might be able to do some internal damage. Otherwise, I have no idea what to do.”_  
_Medusa’s snake struck, sending Raven convulsing to the ground. It slithered forward to coil around Crona’s unmoving mental body, hissing her cold words into his ear. “Crona. Why are you taking it so easy? Do something!”_  
_Crona gulped nervously, trying to find a way to get Lady Medusa to let the Maister and Weapon pair go. He knew very well that if he let her know that he wanted them to escape, that she would insist upon him killing them in a cruel and vicious manner. Crona’s eyes darted from side to side as he stumbled through his words. “It’s not like the ones before. Those were boys, she’s a girl!” He knew that Lady Medusa considered him to be little more than scum, which Crona knew was true, but he wasn’t quite as clueless as she and Ragnaroc thought he was. Crona was drawing on their perception of him as a spineless coward to hopefully convince Lady Medusa to let the two other teens go. “I’m no good with girls, what am I supposed to do with her?”_  
_His heart sank as Crona heard Lady Medusa’s snake chuckle evilly, her voice amused as her velvet voice spoke up again. “How silly.”_  
_Lady Medusa’s snake pulled the two limp figures together, jaws widening as it prepared to strike. “Kill her, of course.” It struck, pumping a rush of insanity through Crona’s mind._  
_“What’s with this guy?” Crona absently heard the Scythe ask, his voice confused. “And who is he talking to?”_  
_Crazy Crona grinned madly, eyes darting in every which direction as he giggled. “Oh, okay. You’re saying I can kill the girl? I didn’t realize that.” He glanced over towards Maka, the girl paling slightly at his crazy gaze. Crona’s smirk only widened as he eyed her ponytails. “But maybe I could play with her hair first.” His insane side was laughing uproariously at both Maister and Weapon’s expressions as they stared in horror at him, also giggling at the thought of slicing the girl’s hair into chunks and strands. “Just for a little while.”_  
_Crona’s sanity cringed at what he was saying, grabbing control long enough to try and warn the pair. “The doors here open inward.” His quiet voice was slurring slightly as Crona slipped back into madness. “They only open one way!” He leaned backward, raising Ragnaroc straight up. Crona’s voice sounded distant and monotone as his sanity and madness fought for control of his mind. “Ragnaroc.” He pulled the handle down to chest level, blade parallel to his face. “Screaming Resonance.”_  
_Ragnaroc’s lips popped out of the blade and the Sword hiccupped. “Gu-pi!” His mouth opened wide, teeth grinning as Ragnaroc yelled. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYAAAAAAAA!” Crazy Crona smirked as the handle vibrated in his hand, letting the blade drop to the floor and then swung it up, releasing the pent-up energy of the sound waves in Maka’s direction._  
_Crona darted forward, using his extreme speed to leap high into the air, giving him a good view as Maka barely blocked his first attack. As he fell back to the ground, Crona slashed down, the hard grip on his arm giving his blow more strength as he brought the Sword up and over his head. Maka was only just able to bring her Weapon’s staff up to deflect his attack, the force sliding her back a good four feet or so. Crona stabbed forward as the Scythe yelped, “He’s coming Maka! Guard now!”_  
_Ragnaroc’s blade jabbed forward, Maka swinging the Scythe up and around, Ragnaroc’s razor sharp edge smashing into the hilt of the blade. Crona was amazed and impressed with Maka’s strength as they struggled back and forth, neither one able to gain the upper hand. That was when Ragnaroc decided to help in the fight, screaming in a high enough pitch to vibrate. “PEEYAAAAAHHHH!”_  
_The Scythe howled in pain, crimson spurting from his blade as the sound waves forced Ragnaroc’s blade into the other Weapon’s handle. “SOUL!” Maka yelled in concern, smashing a heavy boot into Crona’s gut and sending him staggering back. “Stop it!” Crona winced in pain, her blow making him half double-over. He fought down his gag instinct as he steadied his stance, feet wide and planted. “Are you okay, Soul? Talk to me!” Crona’s silver eyes widened in shock at the concern and worry in her voice as Maka spoke to her Weapon, Crona never having heard those tones being directed at another person before._  
_His surprise only grew as her Scythe, Soul, groaned in pain, scarlet still spurting from his chest and blade. “You don’t need to worry about that right now! I am your Weapon partner, Maka. That means that I am always prepared to die for my Meister.”_  
_Crona’s grip on his arm tightened to an almost unbearable level, his other hand holding Ragnaroc up almost like a shield between him and the caring relationship that he was witnessing, his silver eyes wide with pain and shock and sorrow. This couldn’t be the way that other people interacted; they had to be faking this. They just had to! Crona’s mixed feelings kept him in a sort of stupor as Ragnaroc growled and screamed again, his Weapon just as confused as he was. They both watched as Maka calmed herself down, giving her Weapon another worried look before glaring at them, face unreadable._  
_Crona got up on his toes and swung Ragnaroc in wide x’s first on one side then the other, using his slight lack of balance to speed up the slices as he shuffled forward. He could see Maka visibly tensing as he got closer, and decided to use speed and surprise to his advantage again, lunging forward to jab Ragnaroc’s point forward…_  
_She dodged to the side and darted forward, planting the butt of Soul’s staff against the ground and spun herself around, using her legs to knock Crona’s out from under him. Crona flipped, managing to block a blow as he was upside down in the air, the strength of the two Weapons crashing together sending the two Maisters flying to opposite ends of the room. Both landed on their feet, Maka breathing heavily as Crona readied himself to attack again, his grip on his arm never having loosened. Ragnaroc sometimes mocked him for the comforting gesture, but it was a comfort, and Crona had very few of those, so he clung desperately to the ones he retained._  
_Swinging the Sword to cross his chest for a moment, he stabbed and leapt towards Maka, still feeling mixed on whether or not to kill her. Over and over he jabbed at her head, growing more and more confused as to why she wasn’t deflecting the blows, merely evading them. If she kept this up, Maka wouldn’t be able to step back anymore, and the speed of his attacks left her with no time to return blows if she didn’t deflect. Soul apparently shared his confusion, the Scythe yelling, “What’s the matter, Maka? Quit dodging and start fighting back!”_  
_Crona bit his lip, wishing that they would stop being so kind to each other. First Maka was worried about her Weapon, something that he had seen was not common among the few other Maisters he had fought. They had all considered their Weapons to be tools to protect themselves with, something Crona didn’t think he could ever feel with Ragnaroc, the bullying Weapon always having been there to protect him when he truly needed it. He had thought that maybe caring about his Weapon’s well-being was just as freakish as having black blood or having his insanity be a separate being from himself, just something else that made him a monster. But these two, they were messing with his head, making him think about himself again and he HATED thinking about himself. He had done too many horrible things to like or even think that he was tolerable. And Soul… Soul was yelling at Maka to use him, even though he knew that Crona had the ability to hurt him, kill him._  
_Ragnaroc screamed their joint confused frustration, his blade vibrating as it swished barely an inch beside Maka’s face again and again. “Maka!” Soul yelled again, fear-striken concern in his voice. Jab-jab-jab-jab-jab… Crona didn’t let up as he continued to step forward, Maka dodging and backing up. Finally his insanity sliced through, a crooked grin cracking across his face as he giggled and stepped back, swinging Ragnaroc at Maka’s ankles. She lost her balance as she hurriedly stepped back, falling back… back slamming against the large double doors at the entrance of the church. Crazy Crona smirked as he watched Maka’s emerald eyes light up with hope, the girl smashing her shoulder against the doors._  
_“We’re getting out of here!” Maka threw herself against the door repeatedly. “Open up!”_  
_Crona resurfaced slightly from his craziness as he brought Ragnaroc back up, holding the sword up as high as he could. “That’s not going to work, you know.” He looked at the frightened duo sadly as Ragnaroc screamed loudly, building up a strong sound wave length. Crona sighed, wishing that people listened to him sometimes. “You should start paying attention to the things other people say.”_  
_Maka’s pupils were shaking dots in a sea of green, standing out starkly against her bone-pale skin. “Oh no…”_  
_Crona tried one last time to help the pair. “The doors here only open one way! They open inward.” His silver eyes dimmed as he saw that Maka was too scared to understand his prompt, her breath shaky as she stared at him._  
_“MAKA! STOP HIM NOW!” Soul roared, Crona close enough to see the reflected image of the Weapon in the Scythe blade, his crimson eyes wide with fear. But the fear wasn’t for himself, it was for his Maister._  
_Crona wanted to go hide in a corner as Maka yelped back, “But Soul, if I guard, you’ll die!” Crona couldn’t deal with all of his conflicting emotions anymore, just wanting the confusion to stop. He swung the blade down, Ragnaroc surrounded by violet sound energy as he tore down to slice through Maka’s soft-looking skin…_  
_KERSPLASH!_  
_A large gush of crimson splashed against Crona’s cheek and dress, scarlet flying through the air in every direction. Crona’s head was full of so many conflicting emotions that it felt like it was about to explode, as he stared at the body in front of him, a weeping wound slashed across their chest._  
_No. That couldn’t possibly be right. This was wrong, it had to be. His eye twitched spasmodically, an insane smile flitting on and off of his lips. Wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrong!_  
_Soul stood protectively in front of Maka, arms flung wide. He had changed back right as Crona had swung down, taking the blow meant for his Maister._  
_WRONG WRONG WRONG! No one cared that much for anyone else, it wasn’t possible! No, no no. If normal people cared for each other, then his mother should- no. This was wrong. This had to be wrong._  
_Maka’s green eyes were full of horrified terror for her Weapon, yet another thing that was wasn’t possible._  
_This was all part of his insanity. It was, it was it was. Crona sighed in relief, a small smile twitching one end of his mouth up. Yeah, that was right. This was all in his head, just a weird twerk of his madness. That’s it. He was a freak of a monster, the only Maister in the world that cared about his Weapon’s safety, with a mother who was normal in her disdain for him, who deserved to be experimented and tortured, and he had black blood._  
_Soul hadn’t just protected Maka by absorbing the killing blow that had been meant for her. The choked gasp that the girl let out wasn’t fear for her Weapon. They didn’t care for each other in any other way than professional respect, if that._  
_Crona raised the blade up again, silver eyes dancing with insanity as he prepared to kill Maka, this time successfully. He accidentally locked gazes with the girl, Soul’s blood trickling down her cheek. In her eyes, he saw exactly who he was; a black-clad, blood-spattered, crazy freak who was smiling like a monster as he prepared to sink his Sword into her chest. Overwhelming anger shone out foremost, accompanied with sorrow, pain and fear, all swirling in her green eyes._  
He had seen that look on her face in the apartment, and it was ripping his delicate heart to shreds. Crona got to his feet and stumbled back to the Academy, numbly absorbing the sharp pinch as Ragnaroc popped out of his back. It actually felt good, the pain distracting him for a second from the whirling throbs of his thoughts. Crona ignored his Weapon’s rude comments as he dragged himself up the eighty-eight stairs of the school, plodding mindlessly through the halls. His mind still stayed distant as a small group of older teens gathered around him, not noticing as they gently herded him down a deserted hall even though Ragnaroc was cursing up a storm on his head and pounding on his head frantically.  
Crona only somewhat came back to himself when he was thrown harshly into a wall, harsh laughter accompanying the shock. He looked up to see about six or seven teens high-five each other before walking off, leaving three behind. One was actually in Crona’s class, a girl who sat three seats behind him, while the other two were in the class for the less advanced Meisters and Weapons. They were the only bullies that Crona knew by name. The girl in his class was a Weapon called Avery Windhold, while the two boys were a Meister and Weapon team; the Weapon a boy called Sam Tyson, the Maister’s name being Hayden Vale.  
“Wassup, fa-reaky?” Sam asked, the other two smirking in amusement. “Whatcha’ doin’ down there?”  
“You p-pushed me.” Crona said emotionlessly, staring blankly up at the three older teens.  
“I pushed you? Fa-reaky, you need to pay more attention. I haven’t touched you…yet.” Sam chuckled as he snapped a finger against Crona’s nose. “Now I have officially touched you.”  
“Boom, dude!” Hayden grinned, knuckle bumping his Weapon partner.  
“So, Crona. We heard that you’ve gotten into a little disagreement with your girlfriend. Wanna tell us what went wrong in paradise?” Avery asked, leaning against the wall beside him.  
Crona laughed bitterly, thinking that paradise was the last place he would ever be in. “She’s n-not my girlfriend.”  
“Ohhhh… boom!” Hayden didn’t say much else, at least not whenever Crona had been around him.  
“Can’t blame ya, fa-reaky. She ain’t all that. And have you seen how flat she is? Making out with her would be like makin’ out with a dude.” Sam patted Crona’s cheek patronizingly, the gesture hitting a little harder than absolutely comfortable. “Plus, she can be a real bitch. Those ‘Maka-chops’ of hers-“  
Crona growled dangerously and slid up the wall into a standing position, grabbing the front of Sam’s shirt and pulling him in close. “Never, ever call Maka a b-b-“ his voice broke, Crona unable to finish the word. “Never. Insult. Maka. Again. Do you understand?”  
“Yeah, fuck you bastards!” Ragnaroc chimed in, Crona shooting his Weapon a grateful glance.  
Sam’s face was white, the Weapon’s hands shaking as he tried unsuccessfully to break Crona’s grasp. “G-get him!”  
Crona was slammed into the wall, head cracking painfully against the hard surface. He blacked out momentarily, but that was all the time that the three bullies needed to drag him into a nearby room, locking the doors behind them. Hayden and Avery pinned him to one of the walls, holding him steady as Sam approached, eyes dark with adrenaline-fueled anger. He smashed a flurry of punches into Crona’s stomach, though the attacks were actually being appreciated at the moment, serving to distract Crona from his dark thoughts. “How do you like that, huh, fa-reaky? Well?”  
Crona spat out a mouthful of black blood and intentionally aimed for Sam’s shirt, making the other boy curse angrily. “The hell, you bastard!” Crona smirked as his head cracked to the side from the force of the punch it received, the pain keeping his mind firmly in the present.  
Avery studied him as Crona was beaten, a frown on her face. Finally, she nodded to Hayden, both letting Crona fall to the floor. She walked over to whisper into Sam’s ear, the buff boy’s shoulders heaving after the strenuous exercise that was thrashing Crona. He had been scowling, fists clenched, but as she spoke to him he started grinning. “Sweetness.” Walking over to where Crona lay, coughing up thick globs of black blood onto the floor, Sam knelt on his throat. Crona’s eyes widened as he struggled to breath, weakly pushing against the other boy’s knee. Sam bent over, ignoring the fact that that put even more weight on Crona’s neck, and whispered into his ear. “You know how I said earlier that making out with Albarn would be like making out with a dude? I’m thinking about testing that theory. Ya see, I got this sneaky suspicion that Albarn makes up for her boyish figure with a lot of agility and energy, if ya know what I mean.” Crona snarled, glaring up at the muscle-bound boy on top of him. Sam chuckled, tapping Crona’s nose playfully. “Aw, I’m sorry. Are you upset that I’m talking about fucking your girlfriend?” Crona pushed up hard enough to send Sam rocking back a step, the older boy flinching momentarily before smirking. “Yes you are, fa-reaky!”  
“Sh-she’s not… my g-girlfriend!” Crona insisted, refusing to burden Maka’s reputation further by tying her down on his level by close association.  
“Yeah… you said that earlier, fa-reaky. Seemed pretty dead set on it, too, didn’t he?”  
“Boom, man!”  
“Maybe Albarn finally saw you for the monster you really are, hmm?” Avery said, leaning over to wiggle her eyebrows at him.  
Crona burst out laughing, the three bullies backing up quickly as he sat up, hugging himself tightly. “Th-that’s right, she did!” He slowly got to his feet, starting to shake with uncontrollable hysteric laughter. “I’ve expected this e-ever since she f-first hugged me, a-after all, I’m n-nothing more than a freak, r-right? W-why would someone as nice as M-Maka ever bec-come friends with a murderer l-like me? I’m p-pretty sure that it’s p-pity, an angel w-would only sh-show kindness t-to a demon out of p-pity. B-but even knowing that th-this was inevitable, it still h-hurts, you know? I c-can’t deal with m-myself, but I r-really want t-to deal with you.” He looked up, silver eyes flashing with pain. “M-maybe if I st-stop trying to be s-someone that everyone kn-knows I’m n-not, I’ll f-finally be right, you know? Instead of the wrong th-that I’ve always been.”  
He held his hand out. “R-Ragnaroc, let’s p-play.”  
Ragnaroc sighed, arms folded. “Damn it, I hate being the responsible one. FUCKING WAKE THE HELL UP, CRONA! I want to kill these bastards just as much as you do, but I can’t let you give up your fucking little slice of home over these crappy pieces of shit. Let’s just get out of here.”  
Raven appeared in his shadow. “Hello, Crona. Do you want to play? It looks like you do.”  
Crona giggled, feeling torn beyond all fixing. “Go fuck yourself, both of you. If you don’t want to help, Ragnaroc, then go away!” Ragnaroc flinched and shlurped back into Crona’s upper back, while Raven nodded and faded away.  
“Check it out, freaky.” Sam smirked nervously, cracking his knuckles in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating manner, but just managed to make him look constipated. “Even your own body is deserting you!”  
Crona grinned crookedly at his three bullies, letting his entire body relax as he got ready to deal a little damage back. “Giving up already? That’s probably a good idea. After all, we outnumber you, I have more muscle than you do, and two of us are Weapons while yours just abandoned you.” Avery said, looking relieved.  
Crona tilted his head, gazing unfeelingly at them. “Mm.” Contrary to popular belief, he was actually lean with muscle, the various experiments that Lady Medusa had performed on him making it so that his muscles stayed small but just as strong as any of the giant muscle-bound jocks. Other experiments that had better results had given him his extraordinary speed, along with the ability to go from a complete stand-still directly into a full out run. Crona demonstrated his last talent, speeding forward to crack an elbow under Sam’s ribcage. Sam fell to the floor, crimson dripping from his lips as he wheezed.  
Hayden roared and swung a fist at Crona, the lavender-haired Maister easily blocking the attack with one wrist and tiger-fisting him in the sternum. Hayden smashed into the wall, slumping to the ground with an agonized groan. Avery paled as Crona turned to her, still smiling madly despite the fact that he was sadly sane. She turned and ran out the door, Crona letting her leave. “After all, I’m no good with girls, right?” He considered torturing his former tormentors, but decided against it, just wanting to curl up in his room.  
When he got back to his room, the cat was still in his room, curled up comfortably on his bed. Crona grabbed his pillow, sketchbook and pencil, sliding into his corner before beginning to draw. As his pencil swirled around on the page, Crona went into a slightly calmer state. As he shaded in some lines on his picture, a knock came on the door, startling him. Crona set his sketchbook on his table before going to answer the knock. He opened his door, only to come face-to-face with Spirit. Crona yelped and stepped back, surprised. “M-Mister Spirit?”  
Spirit gave him a peculiar look, almost sad solemnity. “Maka really likes you, kiddo.”  
Crona stared at his feet, hand reaching over to grab his arm. “No. She doesn’t.” Thinking on what he had done to his attackers, Crona blanched. “I’m k-kind of glad. Y-you should be, t-too. B-but Maka’s g-going to be glad t-to hear that you’re up and a-able to walk around.” As Crona walked across his room, he muttered to himself, “Again.”  
“What?”  
Crona snapped. “What have you been doing? You can’t tell me that you’ve been in bed, because I’ve seen you walking around. I saw when you messed with Lord Death’s tea bags, then when you were exchanging pills in one of those bottles-“  
Spirit had gone bone white, hands clenching and his blue eyes turning golden white.  
“Why! Just… why?” Crona asked, feeling tired as he ran one hand through his hair.  
“Because. Lord Death is an evil monster who deserves to suffer for all of the horrible things he’s done.” Spirit growled, fists slamming into the wall. “I couldn’t just lay there knowing that my baby girl was going in to see that… animal, every single day. She idolizes him, did you know?” Spirit had tears rolling down his cheeks now as he spoke. “A murderous beast who sends innocent children to do his dirty work, and my precious daughter loves him. Thinks that the world revolves around him.” Spirit straightened, turning to face Crona. “Maka already lost her mother. She doesn’t need to lose her faith in her headmaster as well. If he just died of natural causes, I would be satisfied and Maka would eventually get over his demise.”  
Crona took a step back, a spike of fear stabbing through him. “B-but you’re his most trusted W-Weapon! I th-thought that you liked him.”  
Spirit’s eyes flickered momentarily, flashing their regular blue before returning to the steady golden white. “Th-that’s not right. I am a Weapon, but I would never work for Lord Death.” Spirit shook his head firmly, gaze falling on Crona. “Anyway, like I was saying. Maka really likes you, anyone can see that. I’ve seen how she looks at you, it’s the same way I used to look at her mother.” Spirit sighed sadly before walking into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. “I even like you, and I haven’t liked anyone that Maka ‘likes’… ever, really.” He set a hand on Crona’s shoulder, patting it gently. “I really wish that you had just gone with your friends to investigate my attack, Crona. But you didn’t, and you saw things you shouldn’t have.” Crona’s silver eyes widened in panic and he tried to back up, but Spirit’s hand grabbed his shoulder in an iron grasp, the other hand slamming him up against the wall by his neck. The last thing that Crona saw as his oxygen supply ran out was Spirit’s golden white eyes, full of sad pity as Crona’s vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does a double take... "Whoa, now that is a cliffhanger!"  
> Reader; "YES, IT IS! DON'T DO THAT!"  
> Me; shrugs sheepishly and grins "Sorry, I'm still working on what happens next. I'm in just as much of a cliffhanger as y'all."  
> Reader; "No you're not. YOU KNOW THE BASICS OF WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT!"  
> Me; "Oh, you're right."  
> -Long, awkward silence-  
> Me; "Um, comments, criticisms, and requests would be highly appreciated." Shuffles around, eyes light up as I remember... "Hope you enjoyed my story, and thanks for reading!"


	11. Sandy Shores and Unknown Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maka's worried about Crona, Ragnaroc's worried about Crona and Rude, and Crona's completely out of it. Ragnaroc remembers a time on a beach when they first met a special friend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on with the story! I had to re-edit most of this, my computer shut down right after I had finished editing the story but before I could upload it. So, sorry for any missed mistakes.  
> I also apologize that I'll probably be having some junkie filler stuff in here, though it should turn out okay. While I thought that I had the plot lined up to a certain point [let's call it point C] I didn't. Up to last chapter was point A, and I'm improvising through point B in the next couple of chapters. Sorry.  
> In any case, I'm a little rushed on time right now, but I wanted to mention that if anyone can guess the book that I'm referencing in here, {NOT ERAGON}, I'll give them a congratulation in the next chapter's note, and write up a fluffy fluff piece in one of the upcoming chapters. They'll get the choice of who's fluff it's gonna be, though; Crona/Maka, or Crona with any of the other main good-guy characters.  
> Don't own Soul Eater.

Chapter Eleven  
Maka’s POV  
Maka ran up the stairs of the DWMA, hoping that Crona had returned to his room. Usually whenever the timid boy got really upset he would run back in his room and huddle in the corner, but since Maka knew where he hid and she was the reason he was upset, Crona may have gone somewhere else to calm down. Maka had already made a very quick canvas of the streets around her apartment building, which had taken longer than she had expected. She trotted down the halls, craning her neck to keep an eye out for his notable light lavender hair or crisp white uniform. “You!” A buff boy snarled the word out like a curse, his large hand wrapping around her throat and lifting her off of the ground. “Where the fuck is your little pink-haired freak of a boyfriend, Albarn?” Behind him, another boy and a girl that Maka distantly remembered from class stood there, both scowling at her.  
Maka jabbed the muscular boy in the nerves in his armpit, forcing him to drop her. “If you want to engage in a duel, the proper protocol is to challenge me or Crona verbally. Don’t ever touch me like that again, and don’t call Crona a freak.”  
“She talks a lot like pinky.” The girl sneered nastily at Maka, arms folded firmly across her chest.  
“Boom!” The second boy cheered, making his hands fly apart like an explosion.  
“I’m going to rip fa-reaky to shreds the next time I see him,” the first boy seethed, the fingers of his left hand Shifting into small knives. “Next time, I won’t let him up until he begs for mercy, the little twerp!”  
“What are you talking about?” Maka asked, getting a bad feeling and a strong suspicion.  
“Fa-reaky attacked us! Hit me in the stomach, and socked Hayden there in the chest.”  
Hayden nodded solemnly, wincing as he coughed, scarlet staining his palm as he covered his mouth.  
“Crona wouldn’t attack without provocation.” Maka said suspiciously, eyeing the three. “You wouldn’t happen to have been bullying him, would you?”  
All three blanched, confirming Maka’s theory. “What the hell do you take us for? Monsters like him? Yeah, right. And even if we had, that freak would have had it coming.”  
Maka poked the buff boy on his chest, giving him a dirty look. “If I ever hear that any of you have been picking on Crona again, I’ll take this up with Lord Death.” She turned away and started to walk off, when a thought occurred to her. “Are you the reason that he was covered in bruises?”  
“No. I wish we were, though. That monster shouldn’t be here, and you should be ashamed of yourself for associating with him.” The girl flipped Maka off as the trio stormed away, the two boys holding their torsos gingerly.  
Maka jogged on down to Crona’s room, the hall darker than usual as she trotted down the stone steps to his dungeon-like room. She had tried to talk to Lord Death and her father about either getting Crona an apartment room in the building that she and Soul lived in or letting him move in with them, that way she could still keep an eye on him and he could get out of these depressing surroundings, but they kept putting it off. Maka told herself that it was high time she cornered her dad while he wasn’t able to move, that way he couldn’t escape but she still could if Spirit got too clingy. She finally got to Crona’s room, knocking softly on the large door. “Crona?” There was no reply, which wasn’t surprising. He usually took a while to respond when he was upset, Crona having started to try and hide his tears since she had told him that seeing him in pain hurt her. “Crona, I’m sorry about what I said. I was upset, and I took it out on you. May I please come in?” Still nothing. The absence of a response began to worry Maka, and she knocked again. “Crona?”  
The door clicked open, light streaming into the hall. Maka sighed in relief, quickly walking into his Spartan-like room. “Crona, I’m really sorry-“ She cut herself off and gaped at Blair, the pretty woman changing back into her cat form. Maka frowned as she felt a small twinge of what felt like jealousy wriggle in the pit of her stomach, immediately pushing that thought into the furthest corner of her mind. “What the heck are you doing in here, Blair?”  
“I _was_ enjoying a nice nap, nyaow.” Blair stretched luxuriously on Crona’s bed before sitting and yawning at Maka. Maka’s eye twitched unconsciously as the blond Maister tried to figure out what the cat was doing in Crona’s room.  
“Where’s Crona?”  
“I don’t know. He came back in here about a half an hour ago, looking all upset, and started drawing in the corner over there. Twenty minutes later, someone knocked at his door. I kinda fell asleep then, so I don’t know what happened, but ever since then he’s been gone. I thought he had just left to see you.” Blair looked a little concerned, but was rapidly falling asleep as she spoke.  
Maka glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the chest under Crona’s bed where he kept all of his belongings. Pulling it out, she found that his sketchbook was missing. Since Crona almost never let his sketchbook leave his room, and he always put it back away when he was finished, Maka found this development worrying. The only two options that were open at this point were that Crona had either left his drawing paper in his room somewhere, or he had taken it with him wherever he had gone. As she couldn’t see the book anywhere in his painfully bare and neat room, he must have taken it with him.  
She left Blair snoozing on Crona’s bed, walking on up the stairs as she brainstormed on what to do next. Maka was so lost in thought that she walked straight into Professor Stein, the mad scientist pacing agitatedly on the stairwell and spinning the giant screw in his head tight as he stared at his clipboard. “This doesn’t make any sense!” he muttered to himself, not appearing to notice Maka at all, even though she had just bumped into him. “If only I could dissect Lord Death, then maybe I could figure this out…”  
“Hello, Professor.”  
“Hm? Oh. Good evening, Maka.” Stein seemed highly distracted, eyes darting back to his clipboard.  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’m just fine.” Stein’s mind was definitely somewhere else, his gray eyes snapping back to her as she coughed politely. “Oh, I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”  
Should she or shouldn’t she? Maka decided to try a dirty trick of Soul’s. “The information there.” She pointed to the clipboard that had him so agitated, Stein looking slightly skeptical.  
“Really? Hm. I need to pay more attention to what I say; I don’t seem to remember our conversation at all.” He shrugged. “In any case, to sum it up, Lord Death has apparently caught the common cold.”  
“Why are you so upset? That shouldn’t be too bad.”  
Stein tapped his clipboard. “But the problem is, shinigami can’t get viruses like the common cold, it’s just not possible. They have special enzymes in their blood that protects them against small bugs.”  
Maka frowned, seeing the quandary. “How is he?”  
Stein grinned, pulling a cigarette out of a pocket. “Grumpy.”  
She winced sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”  
“Yup. But I simply cannot understand how his immune system failed. Even the weakest shinigami should be able to hold off common illnesses, and Lord Death is in his prime!”  
“Maka?” Soul clomped down the stairs, pausing to give Professor Stein a half salute. “’Sup, Professor?”  
“Good evening, Soul.” Stein turned back to Maka and whispered into her ear, “Remember not to spread this around the school. It would actually be appreciated if you didn’t even share this information with Soul or your other friends.” Leaning back, Stein spoke in his regular voice. “Oh, that reminds me. Have either of you seen Crona? Spirit wanted to talk to him, but I haven’t been able to find the boy anywhere.”  
“Actually, I was looking for Crona myself.” Maka said, looking at the floor.  
“So was I.” Soul admitted, making Maka look up at him in confusion. He caught her glance and shrugged. “I had asked him to go and talk to you, since you’ve been acting so uncool. I figured that he was probably hiding out in his room instead, so I was headed down there.”  
Maka nodded slowly, realizing that Soul was probably the reason that the timid teen had dared to venture out of the school in the first place. “He actually did come and talk with me, but I lost my temper and yelled at him. Crona ran off, and I’ve been trying to find him and apologize ever since.”  
“I’ll go and ask Marie if he went to talk with her.” Stein offered, striding off quickly.  
“Let’s go talk with the gang, see if any of them have seen him.” Soul said, walking back up the stairs.  
“Blair said that he was in his room at least ten minutes ago, and I noticed that his sketchbook is missing.”  
“So… what? You think he went off to draw something? And what the heck is Blair doing here at school? Doesn’t she freak Crona out?”  
Maka frowned and clenched her gloved fists, trying unsuccessfully to quell the re-surging sense of jealousy against the cat. “I don’t know, but that is definitely something I plan on asking Crona when we find him.”  
Ragnaroc’s POV  
Ragnaroc was going out of his mind with worry, seeing as both Crona and Rude were unconscious and not looking as though they were going to wake up any time soon. At the moment he was more concerned with Rude than Crona, since Crona had been strangled until he lost consciousness, which meant that Spirit didn’t want the Maister dead. Rude on the other hand had just suddenly collapsed about ten minutes after Crona had passed out, which didn’t make any sense since both Ragnarocs were inside their mind room which was somewhere that seemed like it would be safe.  
Ragnaroc had lightly slapped Rude’s face, shaken him, and had even held him up by his ankles and bounced around, but Rude was very perseverant about staying unconscious. Finally, Ragnaroc gave up and picked the shorter boy up, carrying him into his room. Usually, for whatever reason, Ragnaroc wasn’t able to enter ‘Rude’s’ room even though technically it was his room too, but through reluctant {on Rude’s side} experimentation they had found that when they were in indirect contact with each other Ragnaroc was able to join Rude in his room. Ragnaroc gently set Rude down on the red-sheeted bed, the shorter boy’s comical head lolling back onto the soft black pillows.  
He tugged his white gloves off, stuffing them in a pocket. Anytime that Ragnaroc touched Rude, they made sure to not let their skin touch; otherwise they would be forced to share the other’s memories.  
The room was pretty big and well lit; several lamps and dragon-shaped nightlights aiding the overhead ceiling fan, which only gave off a dim glow. An over-stuffed hamper was stuffed in a corner, the mound of red, black and grey clothes barely contained in the black plastic bin. A dark wood desk sat to the right of the clothes hamper, a large mass of magazines, books, weapons, and even a few collars piled on the table’s surface. Beside the door, a large chest of drawers had been set against the wall, several silver and wood dragon figurines placed carefully on the smooth top, their images reflected in the large black-framed mirror that hung directly above the chest of drawers. Large paintings of dark woodland scenes, dragons, and sword-bearing heroes dotted his grey painted walls, while various weapons and magazines littered his black-carpeted floor.  
All in all, Ragnaroc had to admit that it was really nice to be back in his old room. Rude had only let him back in about three times over the past ten or eleven years, but this place still looked exactly the same as it had when he wasn’t stuck inside his young Maister’s head. Ragnaroc smirked, thinking that the way it looked was like a dump. However, that wasn’t entirely Rude’s fault, since everything basically went flying back to the spot that it had been removed from when one of the Ragnaroc’s weren’t touching them after about a five-minute delay.  
Plopping back into the black leather upholstered chair, Ragnaroc swiveled to poke through the mess of books and magazines, pulling out ‘Eragon’ by Christopher Paolini. Now there was a book that he enjoyed, {which was pretty obvious by all of the dog-eared pages}, the quick-moving plot full of magic, sword-fights, hot girls, and, of course, dragons. Flipping through the book that he already practically knew by memory, it suddenly occurred to him that it didn’t make any sense for him to enjoy reading about magic as much as he did, since magic had basically destroyed his life. Ragnaroc frowned, feeling that there was something there just barely out of his mental reach, knowing that he could almost remember what it was…  
THUD! Ragnaroc jumped to his feet and spun, only to see that Rude had somehow managed to fall off of the bed, smash into the bedside table, knock a few of the small silver dragon figurines onto himself, and still somehow stay unconscious. Sighing and shaking his head with a soft smile, Ragnaroc picked the shorter boy up and set him back in the center of the bed again, flopping back onto his bed with a second sigh. Staring up at the ceiling, Ragnaroc cracked up as he caught sight of a few pages from dirty magazines that he remembered tacking up a long time ago, the thought crossing his mind that if Crona ever caught sight of these he would go into a panic attack. “And yet they’re in the poor kid’s head. Oh, the irony.”  
Ragnaroc relaxed for a few moments, wondering if there were any differences in his room since it had become Rude’s. His mind drifted, going back to a memory that he had recently remembered.  
_“Told you, that’s my room.”_  
_Ragnaroc winced as he got back up to his feet, glaring at the comical figure.“No, it’s mine!”_  
_“Oh yeah?” Rude didn’t look convinced, folding his arms and glaring right back. “Prove it!”_  
_Ragnaroc scowled, thinking. “Well, behind the door there should be a chest of drawers, right?”_  
_Rude smirked nastily, x eyes closing momentarily in pain as Crona convulsed on the table with a soft moan. “For that being your room, you don’t sound so sure of yourself.” He sighed, eye cracking open to fix Ragnaroc with a reluctant gaze. “But yeah, there is.”_  
_“The third drawer has a fake back, where I keep all of my most prized memories.”_  
Ragnaroc pulled himself up, walking over to the chest of drawers and opening the third drawer. A few half-folded shirts had been crammed in haphazardly, along with a crumpled pair of boxers and an iron dagger. Digging past them, he pushed a slight depression in the top left corner, a door sliding open in the back of the drawer as he did so. Ragnaroc reached in and pulled out a small wooden box, iron and silver swirling through the dark wood in the shapes of dragons.  
The first thing in the box was a very clumsy drawing of three figures; a short purple-headed blob, a tall black and red stick figure, and a short, long black scribble. Ragnaroc smirked at Crona’s early handiwork, the lines highly inexperienced. He smiled sadly as he pulled a small bag full of lumps of colored glass out of the box next. Ragnaroc’s hand clenched tightly around the plastic, tears welling up in his eyes as his thumb ran over the smooth clumps.  
_“Ragnerrock! Com’ere, com’ere!” Ragnaroc trotted over to where Crona was standing, the little boy’s cries alarming the teen. “Whazzat?”_  
_Ragnaroc smiled at the toddler before ruffling his pale violet hair. “Dude, that’s a branch.”_  
_“B-but it looks like a snake!”_  
_Ragnaroc picked the large stick up and showed it to the cringing toddler. “That doesn’t mean it’s not a branch. Here.”_  
_Crona backed up, arms waving wildly. “No, no! You always tell me not to touch snakes ‘cause they’re dang-ier-ously.”_  
_“Dangerous. And you shouldn’t. But this isn’t a snake.” Ragnaroc internally smirked, then gave the little boy the saddest expression he could. “Don’t you trust me, Crona?”_  
_Crona’s pale silver eyes widened as he bit his lip, the younger boy looking torn. “‘Course, but-“_  
_Ragnaroc spoke over his young Maister. “Good. Now, take it and deal with your fear.”_  
_Crona gave the much taller, very much stronger and a little older boy a fierce glare, crossing his arms petulantly. "I'm not scared ovva stupid stick."_  
_Ragnaroc grinned mischievously then sobered, nodding seriously and patting Crona on the head. "Of course you aren't." Crona's silver eyes darkened to a stormy blackish-grey at the patronizing tone that Ragnaroc was using._  
_"I'm not!"_  
_"Of course you aren't! You're big and strong enough to take on any snake-like sticks you come across."_  
_Crona let out a loud growl, something that probably would have been scary if the boy had been over four feet tall. "That's mean, Ragnerrock. One day I'm gonna be way bigger and tougher than you, and then_ you'll _be the one who'll come to_ me _for protection when snakes come around. I knows that you's is scared of snakes."_  
_Ragnaroc crooked a grin at the feisty little boy, leaning down to tug lightly on the end of Crona's nose. "It's '_ know _that_ you are _scared of snakes.' And I'll believe that when I see it, little one!"_  
_Ragnaroc smirked openly, pulling the boy into a headlock and giving his Maister a light noogie. “Ragnerrock, dat hurts! Stoppit!”_  
_He released Crona, who immediately took off running down the sandy shores. “Hey, Crona!”_  
_The boy stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”_  
_“Don’t go in the water unless I’m there with you, got it, shrimp?”_  
_“Yup! ‘Kay!” Crona continued on his path beside the lapping water, giggling whenever the clear liquid washed over his toes. Ragnaroc spread a soft red blanket out on the sand, digging around in the canvas gym bag that he had brought with them. He winced as he pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, hating wearing the cream. With a heavy sigh, Ragnaroc called the boy back over knowing that if he didn't slather Crona thickly, he'd have a heavily sunburned toddler on his hands tomorrow. Crona was so pale that he sometimes got sunburned just by practicing swordplay with Ragnaroc out in the castle courtyard for a few hours._  
_As Crona trotted over, Ragnaroc growled softly and squirted a generous glob of white paste into his hand and began to spread it over his exposed skin, trying to set a good example. “Here. Put some on.” Crona obeyed, smearing the gunk over his already pale skin awkwardly. Ragnaroc finished applying white goo to Crona’s back before he let the boy go back to his explorations._  
_Ragnaroc had started to doze, eyes shutting in contentment at the warm rays curling against his stomach, when Crona yelped in fright. “Ragnerrock! Ragnerrock!”_  
_Ragnaroc was at the young boy’s side in an instant, arm Shifting into its blade form. “What’s wrong?”_  
_Crona hid behind Ragnaroc’s legs, one quivering finger pointing to where small bubbles were popping up from the watery sand. “The beach is breaving!”_  
_Ragnaroc sighed in relief, chuckling at his little charge’s fright. “Crona, there are small creatures that burrow under the sand to trap insects and stuff like that in their holes. That bubbling is just them breathing, or keeping the water out, I don’t remember which.” His brow furrowed in confusion as Crona’s grip on his leg only tightened. “What’s wrong?”_  
_“There’re creatures under the sand?” Crona’s voice was terrified, Ragnaroc mentally kicking himself as he realized what was bothering the toddler. He knelt down, using the tip of his blade arm to dig up one of the holes, unearthing a tiny wriggling sea creature._  
_“Hold out your hands.” Crona frowned but did so, storm-grey eyes worried. Ragnaroc tilted the blade, letting the sand and the small creature slide into Crona’s cupped hands. “This is what they all look like.” Crona yelped momentarily as the little crustacean squirmed and writhed in his palms, but he quickly became enamored with it, going on a search for more. Ragnaroc chuckled and shook his head, amused at how quickly Crona’s emotions could change._  
_Eventually, after Crona had accumulated a small pile of crustaceans and Ragnaroc had taken a short nap in the rays of the chuckling sun, Ragnaroc taught Crona how to swim. Ragnaroc was slightly surprised when, after the first half hour of awkwardly wild splashing and yelping proclamations that he was drowning, Crona began to swim almost as well as Ragnaroc. And Ragnaroc could swim like a fish, so that was really saying something._  
_They swam around for a while, Ragnaroc finally getting out to dry off. He kept a cautious eye on the smaller boy as he began to pull their lunch out of the gym bag, setting the multiple containers out on the crimson fabric. “Hey, Crona! Come on and dry off before lunch!”_  
_“Awww!” Crona gave Ragnaroc huge silver puppy dog eyes, a hint of a whine in the toddler’s voice. “Can’t I stay out a little longer, Ragnerrock?”_  
_“Nope, but you can go back in later.” Crona pouted cutely as he slowly headed back to shore, struggling to walk through the shallow water without falling over. Ragnaroc jumped to his feet and raced over as Crona screamed in terror, falling back into the water and thrashing helplessly. Ragnaroc grabbed the boy out of the two or three foot deep water and trotted back to the blanket, patting Crona’s back as the toddler coughed up swallowed water._  
_“You okay?”_  
_Crona buried his head in Ragnaroc’s shoulder, shivering in fear. “There’s something out there in the water, I saw it! It was black and scaly and sharp and scary …”_  
_“Hey, hey, little dude. Calm down, it’s okay.” Ragnaroc wrapped him in a black towel, setting him on the blanket. “I’ll go check it out, and if it’s anything bad…” He Shifted his hand, showing the black blade to Crona. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” Ragnaroc patted the shaking toddler on his head before walking back out. He had a strong suspicion that what Crona had seen was going to end up being a large chunk of driftwood, but Ragnaroc didn’t want to be wrong. Peering through the clouded waters, he finally caught sight of something moving in the water, something black momentarily breaking the surface before sinking back down. Ragnaroc let his left hand Shift, his right hand plunging down to grab whatever he had just seen. His questing fingers touched smooth scales, and he had to Shift his bladed left hand back to help him pull out a … light, black, scaly bundle of some sort of animal, Ragnaroc unable to distinguish what it was as it contorted weakly in his arms. Wading back to the boy on the blanket, he pulled out a second black towel, wrapping the odd creature up in the soft fabric._  
_After a few minutes of squeaks from both the bundle of cloth and a curious Crona, a black scaled head poked out tentatively from the folds of the towel, crimson eyes peering quizzically at both boys. A loud seagull screeched overhead, and the head instantly yanked back with a sharp yelp. “Whazzat?” Crona asked him, Ragnaroc shrugging as he slowly pulled the towel away from the creature._  
_“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out in a minute.” With a final tug, the obsidian animal rolled out onto the blanket, squeaking in alarm as it scrambled to get back on its feet. Ragnaroc’s eyes widened as they looked the creature over; a black-scaled lizard, dark clumps clinging to its back which now unfolded and flapped clumsily to reveal that they were wings. “Oh, no way!” Ragnaroc began to grin, Crona tugging lightly on his shirt sleeve._  
_“What’s going on?”_  
_“Check it out, dude! I think that you found a baby dragon!”_  
_Crona stared at the little dragon, about a foot in length and seven or eight inches tall. “Cool!”_  
_Ragnaroc took a slice of bread from their lunch, breaking it into smaller pieces and offering one to the dragon. It sniffed the limp bread for a while before grabbing it and gobbling it down in under a second. “Careful there, little one. Don’t want you to choke.”_  
_“C-can I try?” Crona asked, looking hopefully up at Ragnaroc._  
_“Sure. Just be careful to keep your fingers out of the way.” Ragnaroc gave Crona one of the slightly larger pieces of bread, making sure that the younger boy heeded his warning. Crona’s eyes darkened from pale silver to the blue silver that showed that he was happy or relaxed as he watched the baby dragon munch the chunk that he had given it._  
_By the time that a half an hour had passed, the little dragon had begun to play with the two boys, prancing happily around in the sun. It quickly became apparent that it had imprinted on them, following them wherever they went. The dragon wasn’t aggressive at all, its temperament apparently gentle. There was a short moment of stress when it proved that it could breathe fire, Crona unfortunately happening to have been in the path of the short burst of flame._  
_“Owww!” Ragnaroc comforted the sobbing boy as he cradled a slightly scorched finger, the skin a little red and apparently tender. The dragon was cowering behind the gym bag, having scurried there after Crona’s loud cry of pain, but it began to slowly creep forward. Ragnaroc had a feeling that if the dragon had been a dog, its tail would have been tucked and its ears would have been flattened. It finally reached Ragnaroc’s knee, letting out a soft whimper as it lightly pawed Crona’s shorts._  
_“Crona, it looks like the little one wants to apologize.” Crona didn’t reply, turning his head into Ragnaroc’s chest. “Come on, accept its apology.”_  
_Crona looked over at the baby dragon, the dragon’s red eyes gazing back at him in worried silence. Crona carefully reached out, relaxing slightly as the baby dragon pushed its head against his hand. Ragnaroc smiled as the two made up, grinning as the dragon crawled up to sit on Crona’s lap, who was sitting on his lap. Suddenly the little dragon scrambled to get off of Crona’s lap, falling down onto the sand before letting a sharp flicker of crimson flame flare out of its mouth to the golden grains below. It let out a soft burp before padding back up onto Crona’s lap, curling up like a contented cat. Ragnaroc blinked as he saw that where the flames had hit the sand, a shiny glob of scarlet glass had formed. He waited for a few minutes before picking up the still-hot blob, marveling at the smooth surface. “That’s pretty, can I hold it?” Ragnaroc chuckled and handed the glass to Crona._  
_“Careful, it’s hot.” The boy nodded and let the small globule drop into the fabric of his cobalt shorts._  
_Over the next little while, they found out that different foods made the dragon produce different colored flames, all three having fun with that. Finally, it was time for them to head back to the mansion._  
_“Can we take it home with us?” Crona asked, both the toddler and the baby dragon giving him huge puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeeeeeease?”_  
_Ragnaroc pretended to think about it, frowning and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I dunno… It doesn’t even have a name.” He knelt down to look the dragon in its red eyes. “What would we call this little one?”_  
_“Why don’t we call it the ‘Little One’? That’s what you’ve been calling it all day.” Crona suggested, grinning as Ragnaroc ruffled his hair._  
_“All right, the Little One he shall be. Now I have two little ones in my life, what on earth am I supposed to do with you?”_  
_“Give us a piggy-back ride home, please?” Ragnaroc groaned theatrically before nodding._  
_“Oh, all right. Up you go!” Crona picked up the newly-dubbed Little One and climbed up onto Ragnaroc’s shoulders, whooping as Ragnaroc jumped to his feet. Ragnaroc laughed evilly as he grabbed Crona’s legs and proceeded to shake and bounce around, Crona howling with laughter as he enjoyed the spastic ride._  
Ragnaroc set the small bag back down, brushing his tears away with the side of his hand. Crona and Ragnaroc had gone through a rather long period of depression after Medusa had forced Crona to kill the Little One, Rude and Raven having to help the other two through that first month or so. [Rude basically stayed inside the mind room to nag at Ragnaroc whenever Crona needed to be healed, while Raven took Crona wherever they went in Crona's mind to play, leaving Crona in continuous giggly insanity] Eventually, Medusa had tortured Crona until Raven had brought Crona's mind out of their 'safe' spot, making it so that Ragnaroc couldn't move or heal Crona's wounds. They had had a little talk about 'grieving', which was basically Medusa telling Crona that she'd have him, not Raven, kill a small animal each day until Crona snapped out of his depression. Ragnaroc shuddered, hating thinking about that period of time.  
He had moved on to look at some photos when Rude moaned, making Ragnaroc jump somewhat guiltily and stick all of the objects back in the box, stuffing the box back into the hiding spot, and slamming the hiding spot and drawer shut. Trotting over to Rude’s bed, he stuck a soft pillow under the comical boy’s head. “What the hell happened to my head, you bastard?” Rude’s words were slurred and almost unintelligible from pain, one ball hand slowly going up to his head.  
“I don’t know. I’m glad you’re up though, I was starting to get worried.”  
“Fuck…” Ragnaroc watched worriedly as Rude sat up groggily, looking half out of it as he staggered over to the door. Ragnaroc hurried over to support him as Rude almost fell.  
“Dude, you need to go back to bed!”  
Rude made a rude looking gesture in his direction, leaning heavily on Ragnaroc’s shoulder. “Damn, my fucking head feels like someone took a fucking sledgehammer to it.” Suddenly Ragnaroc felt Rude stiffen against him, x eyes flashing open wide. “Shit, Crona!” Rude scrambled forward, half-falling through the door that took him out into the physical world.  
Ragnaroc’s face drained as Rude was forced back into the room through the door, something that had never happened before. Rude always went out through the door, and he always came back in through the ceiling. He never came back in through the door or out through the ceiling, it just wasn’t possible. Rude cursed loudly before staggering back through the door, the short figure managing to stay out this time.  
The screen showing what Rude saw flashed on, catching Ragnaroc’s attention. He frowned at the fact that Rude’s vision was blurry and spotted, wishing that he knew how to get Rude to come back in and relax for a while before he passed out again.  
Rude was sticking up out of Crona’s chest, something that didn’t happen very often because Crona wasn’t able to see very well around Rude’s head and upper torso, both boys having ended up preferring Rude to protrude from Crona’s back where Rude could still move around comfortably and Crona could see clearly.  
Crona was lying on a metal table, sturdy leather straps running across his ankles, thighs, wrists and stomach, upper arms and chest, and neck. The teen Maister didn’t appear to be physically wounded and Rude hadn’t had any injuries, but that was about the end of their good news. Crona was out cold and strapped to a table in a dark room, Rude was groggy and disoriented, and Ragnaroc was frustrated at his inability to do anything to help either of them.  
A door in the room opened, the bright light flooding in making Rude wince, stars flashing in his eyes. When Rude managed to open his x eyes again, both he and Ragnaroc flinched at the shock of seeing a tall figure that was standing in front of the table Crona was strapped to. A smaller flash of light reflected off of something metallic in the figure’s hand, both Ragnarocs watching as it sank into Rude’s arm. As the screen went black, Ragnaroc saw the blurred figure nod in satisfaction.  
Ragnaroc waited, but Rude didn’t fall back into the mind room unconscious or otherwise, and now none of the screens were on. That was very rare, since the screen that showed Crona’s thoughts usually showed his dreams whenever he was unconscious. Ragnaroc began to pace the length of the mind room, worried thoughts running through his mind…  
Unknown’s POV  
The figure watched Ragnaroc sink into unconsciousness, the comical boy’s figure slumping to fall against his Maister’s. Walking over to a nearby table, the figure set down the hypodermic needle it had just sunk into Ragnaroc’s side. It smiled sadly as it flexed its fingers, dangerous-looking red sparks crackling from its palms. “Poor laddies. Sleep well, both of you. Our appointed meeting hasn’t quite come to fruition, but when it does I truly hope that you survive it.” It rearranged Ragnaroc into a more comfortable position on both Maister and Weapon before leaving, the door slamming shut behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, to anyone who correctly guesses the book I"m referencing in here, they will get a note in the...note, and will get to pick out a fluff piece between Crona and any character they want.  
> Please review, request, or leave a helpful criticism! It would be highly appreciated and would probably make my day.  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying my story!  
> {And again, NO... IT ISN'T ERAGON!}


	12. An OCD Attack and Accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which;   
> Kid talks to his dad, freaks out, and attacks his friends.   
> Crona has a very short appearance.  
> Aaaand... Maka and the gang find out that they really, really need to find Crona quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this chapter took so long; I'm still working on school stuff, I've been volunteering, plus for the longest time I had a serious case of writer's block.   
> I can't wait to get through the next chapter or two; they should be the last ones before I get to the part in my story that I've been dying to write... {growl in frustration as I remember the next one or two chapters that I still have to write...}  
> {Sigh...} Anyway, I wrote a Soul Eater song fic, if anyone's interested. That's another reason that I haven't been writing on this.   
> This is the first chapter so far that doesn't have a memory, but I'm gonna try and maybe put two memories in the next one to make up for it. This is also the first chapter with Kid's point of view.   
> As usual, I don't own Soul Eater.

Chapter Twelve   
Crona’s POV  
Crona moaned, his head throbbing harshly. He went to rub a hand into his forehead, but his hand refused to budge. He cracked one dazed eye open, noticing with dull surprise that he was sitting up in a pretty cold chair, Ragnaroc snoozing upside down. The unconscious Weapon was protruding from Crona’s chest, his head cradled nicely in Crona’s lap with a line of drool oozing out of his comical mouth onto his Maister’s white pants. Crona tried again to move, only to see the thick restraints that held his arms, legs, waist and throat tightly in place; making him unable to do much more than squirm slightly in place.   
Crona shook in fear, hating how much worse being a helpless prisoner was after tasting a hint of normality. Before Maka had shown up with her beautiful eyes, warm soul and kind words, he had been able to live without having the slightest bit of control over his life. Now, the terror of the unknown, anger at whoever had done this to him and the barest spark of rebelliousness was tearing him to pieces. “Th-this is r-really b-bad. R-Ragnaroc! W-wake up!”  
This was so similar to Lady Medusa’s ‘experimentation laboratory’ that Crona wanted to throw up, but there were very clear differences. For one, the walls of this room were a sterile white, the floor made up of checkered black and white tiles, unlike the reddish-brown stained grey stone that made up the walls and ceiling of Lady Medusa’s dungeon. Another difference was the bright light, leaving no area shaded. In Lady Medusa’s lab, the only light was directly over her current subject, leaving whomever her attention was directed at blinded. Unfortunately, the similarities between the rooms were all of the worst parts; something to strap victims to, [though Lady Medusa preferred a table to a chair], a small table in the far corner of the room that was covered in various small, sharp, dangerous-looking weapon-like instruments, and a drain in the center of the slightly sloped floor for blood to seep into.   
A door behind him swung open, footsteps clicking towards Crona. “Wh-who’s there?”   
He flinched and yelped quietly as a needle sunk into his neck, his vision blurring and thoughts turning into incomprehensible mush.   
Crona’s drug-addled mind heard but was unable to understand the person’s calm words, their tone icily sad for some reason. “A friend and foe.”  
Death the Kid’s POV  
“Father, it’s been three days since Crona’s disappearance! I believe that we can safely say that he has either run away or has been kidnapped. Can’t you send someone out to go and search for Crona?” Kid asked, readjusting his comical skull shaped cravat brooch for the hundredth time that day and brushing imaginary dust off of his obsidian black suit. Worry for his missing friend was about to drive him into a bad symmetry fit, the young shinigami already reduced to tapping his leg in spurts of eight to keep calm.  
Lord Death was usually very sympathetic to his son’s…issues, but his own illness had just been getting mysteriously worse. The tall shinigami was now bed-ridden for the most part, apparently ailing from a wicked sore throat and roiling stomach, hawking up large wads of phlegm and wiping an ever-running nose. Kid had learned that it was a very good idea to leave the upstairs bathroom door open, so that when the urge came, Lord Death could quickly stumble into the bathroom to hurl into the commode without having to pause. All in all, Kid’s dad was not in a good mood. “Kiddo, go away and leave me alone.”   
“If nothing else, I would think that you would be worried about ruining all of the progress that Crona has made in healing his soul; it went from practically being a Kishin egg to being almost as clear as Maka’s soul.” Kid’s eye twitched as his father pushed his mask to one side to blow his nose, then just left it hanging crookedly, the lopsidedness digging at his son’s mind insistently. Kid shook his head, thought of how wonderfully symmetrical circles and squares were, and tried to continue. “I-If he just ran away, then he’s probably in a bad enough state of mind that he could lose control of his sanity and go on a killing spree. When he came back to himself, not only would his soul have been ruined again, but his spirit would be irreparably broken. Crona already struggles to forgive himself for the crimes he was forced to commit under his mother’s command, if he killed any innocents now, I don’t think that even Maka would be able to help him sane.”  
“Kid, right now I don’t really care.” Lord Death’s voice was unnaturally cold, the tall headmaster readjusting his pillows before settling back with a sigh. “I have been informed by a highly trusted source that Crona was the party responsible for Spirit’s injuries, and that he went in to finish the job on the night he ‘disappeared’.” Lord Death’s huge gloved hands formed quotation marks in the air on the last word, ignoring his son’s disbelieving gasp. “Spirit managed to defend himself and run the boy off, but not before he learned that Crona has been poisoning me for the last week with some sort of toxin that only affects shinigami. He put it in a special tea I like, and replaced the pills that Stein prescribed for me. Apparently, you were going to be next.”  
Kid shook his head, shock stealing his words away before he could spit them out. This is impossible. Crona? A traitor… again? No. I’ve seen how broken up Crona has been during and after his first betrayal, and that was when he was in Medusa’s hold. Crona is simply not capable of betrayal.  
“In any case, I’ve sent several teams off to capture or kill the demon swordsman Crona. So, in a manner of speaking, I’ve fulfilled your request. Now, will you please go away?” Lord Death stiffened before making a mad dash for the restroom, Kid flinching as he walked down the ornate wooden staircase, the loud sound of desperate vomiting following him.  
Kid walked into his room, absent-mindedly lying back in the exact center of his bed as thoughts tumbled through his mind, one after another.  
He really needed to tell Maka what his father had just told him, and help her find their friend before his father’s men did, but first Kid had to calm down.   
Crona, a traitor. **It makes sense; after all, he is so unsymmetrical that he makes my head hurt to even think of him- no!** Kid tugged tightly on his hair, trying to keep his mind out of the comforting flow of neat orderliness. Maka and the Thompson sisters were the only friends that he had that were somewhat symmetrical, but that didn’t make the rest traitors. “Concentrate…” he growled at himself, closing his eyes tightly. Crona had been a villain once, in a manner of speaking, but he had changed since coming to the academy. There was no way that he could have been poisoning Kid’s father and torturing Maka’s dad, that went against everything that Kid had learned about Crona.   
Kid began to sweat, seeing every slightly crooked line and off-center object in his room. Each imperfection struck Kid almost worse than a physical blow, making him flinch and shiver uncontrollably. “Crona wouldn’t betray Maka.” Kid whimpered softly, flinching at the deep, asymmetrical marks that his fingernails had left on his arms. “I’m disgusting…No,” he snarled ferociously, slamming his fists into the bed frame. “My condition does not rule me, I can control this…”   
**Crona was as bad as him; both of them were despicably imperfect beings that were only half human.** “We’re horrible!” Kid laughed out loud, feeling slightly hysterical. “And why shouldn’t I be? I’m a waste of life! So wrong…” He felt his grasp on logic slip as he remembered that Maka had said that she and Crona had had a fight the day Crona had disappeared. **Crona could have snapped after having his closest ally apparently turn on him…** “NO! I refuse to dabble into theories on why one of my friends would go crazy, because of the simple fact that he didn’t! I’ll list the reasons.”  
Kid took a deep breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth. “One, Crona hates hurting others. He’s made that clear enough every time we’re supposed to spar in class.” **He could have been lying. Or maybe Crona just doesn’t want to let on just how deadly he is. How much he revels in causing pain.** “Shut up!” Kid snarled at himself, running his hands through his hair. A painting on the other end of his room was tilted too far, the asymmetrical sight dragging the young shinigami over against his will to straighten it up. “Two, Crona is terrified of everything. He can barely get through classes, let alone go out about a hundred miles to go beat Spirit to a pulp.”   
**Again, he could be faking. Being scared of everything is a great way to earn sympathy from others.** Kid flinched as he tripped over his carpet, gasping in mental anguish as the decorative fabric rumpled up in no distinguishable pattern. He hurried to fix it, smoothing the rug out and making sure that it was exactly ten inches from the door and perfectly parallel from his bed. “Th-three. Crona is extremely over-protective of his friends, preferring to let himself die rather than let them get so much as a scratch.” **So? It’s not like Spirit or Father are his friends, Father wouldn’t even let Crona get a more comfortable room than the refurbished cell.** “Four, Crona wouldn’t have a clue how to find or make the virus that made Father ill.”   
He almost laughed at himself that time. Kid was reaching on that one and he knew it. Crona was a lot smarter than people thought that he was, the misconception that he was stupid coming from his extreme gullibility. Kid read a lot of self-help and psychology books to try and fix his obsessive-compulsive disorder, not that it helped him any. However, since he was almost a certified psychologist after all of that research, Lord Death had had Crona come and talk with him for a half an hour every Thursday. During their talks, Kid had learned a little about Crona’s twisted past. It turned out that Crona’s trusting nature had been forced on him, Medusa putting Crona into positions that gave him two options; either instantly listen, trust and obey whatever she told him, or be badly injured. Kid had heard from Lord Death that Crona received top marks on all of his school work, both physically and mentally, and when Kid had tested Crona with several puzzles of increasing difficulty, he had been amazed at the speed and accuracy in which they were solved. In fact, sometimes Kid would be hard-pressed to say which of the two boys was smarter; him, or Crona.   
“Five, what reason would he have to hurt either my father or Spirit?” **Kid, your argument is so shaky that it would turn milk into butter. Spirit is always dismissive of Crona, not to mention the fact that if Spirit ever figured out that Crona had a crush on Maka, or more importantly, Maka felt the same way towards Crona, Crona would be a smear on the ground by the time that Father’s favorite Death Scythe was done with him. And as for why he would attack Father, the possibilities are endless. Crona could have been angry that he was forced to stay in the same cell he was imprisoned in when he surrendered to the DWMA, or he could be angry that Father released his mother a few months ago, which led to him almost being killed. He could have joined the witch/shinigami war on the witches’ side, or he may have just lost his temper at father’s infernally cheerful banter.**  
“Sh-shut up. Crona is innocent until proven guilty.” **Father has proof against Crona; at least one eyewitness who wishes to testify against him.** “S-six… Umm…” Kid’s mind was growing groggily confused, a thick fog of worry and OCD descending in full force on the teen. “He couldn’t have gotten from the school to the alley and back without being missed. There’s no way.” Kid smirked at himself as he paced back and forth in the exact center of the room. “Who am I kidding, Crona probably could find a way if he really wanted to.”   
He gasped breathlessly, suddenly having a desperate need for fresh air. Staggering over to the window, he ripped open his black drapes and yanked the glass up, shoving his head out into the bright rays of the laughing sun. Kid managed to gulp down a few quick breaths before the overwhelming lack of symmetry in the outside world forced the panicking young shinigami back into his room, slamming the pane of glass down with a sharp crack. “The world is filthy…” He chuckled grimly as his eye twitched in rapid spasms. “Absolutely filthy.”  
He frowned, rubbing his forehead “Seven… Seven… seven. Crona wouldn’t just leave, he has far too strong of a crush on Maka.” Kid flinched as he saw the messy state he had left his curtains in, trotting back over to straighten them up. **Though even that reason could be a clever ruse of Crona’s to draw sympathy and acceptance, however unlikely that that seems.** Kid snarled, anger rising at his OCD and the fact that his mind was apparently trying to convince him that Crona was a traitor just because he was unsymmetrical.  
“I know I can overcome my unfortunate condition; I refuse to submit to a mental disorder…” Kid chanted, repeating the sentence. He didn’t realize it, but he had unconsciously said his words eight times, the sentence made up of two sets of eight words. Kid began to chuckle softly, realizing what came next. “Reason number eight. Eight… eight is beautiful… A picture of gorgeous symmetry.”   
He growled, the sound guttural as he shook his head, trying to get symmetry out of his mind. Kid strode quickly to his bathroom to splash water on his face, accidentally catching his reflection’s double toned gold gaze in the mirror over the sink, the last bit of his mind not controlled by his OCD cursing up a storm. All of the mirrors in the mansion were supposed to be covered when not in use, since Kid’s OCD always flared up when he saw his unfortunately half-striped hair. He wasn’t certain when Patty had been in here, but he could definitely tell that this was her doing from the tooth-paste rendition of a giraffe that had been painted on the glass surface.   
“N-no…” Kid crumpled to his knees, staring in horror at the three ugly white stripes that forever barred him from the peace of perfect symmetry. “Such a despicable being shouldn’t exist…”  
He smashed his fist against the floor, howling in agony at the anguish of being such an imperfect freak. “I’m disgusting, nothing more than scum!” Kid felt hot tears trickling down his cheeks as he slammed his head and fists into the floor and walls, the harsh pain soothing his OCD as much as the unsymmetrical wounds aggravated it. He welcomed the stabbing sensation as the bones in his right knuckle cracked, his out-of-it mind reasoning that it was his duly deserved punishment for being such a disappointing heir to the Death line, such a weak-minded shinigami, such a horrible friend, such a despicable piece of garbage. Then his obsessive-compulsive mind began to quiver at the sight of only one broken hand, so Kid began to grimly smash his other fist to balance himself out again.   
Maka’s POV  
Maka sent her soul wavelength for what seemed like the millionth time that week, searching for a flinch of fear, a twinge of misery, a hum of kindness, a throb of gentility, a mutter of loyalty, a spark of gentleness; all the things that made up Crona’s poor soul, but as usual her energy returned without having touched any souls but Soul’s. They were riding through the desert on Soul’s motorcycle, Maka using her soul perception to try and find the missing swordsman. “Hey, Maka! We gotta head back now, we’re outta gas.”  
Maka sent her wavelength out one more time before nodding to her Weapon partner. “Yeah.” They had known that the odds of finding Crona in the desert were slim, seeing as how the boy had gone missing the week before and they had done this exact thing for the last three days, but both had agreed that it was better to be safe than sorry.   
The ride back to Death City was a quiet one, both lost in their own thoughts. Maka’s mind was full of questions; Had Crona left of his own accord… again? If not, then who had kidnapped him? Why would Crona be kidnapped? Was the timid Maister alright? Her feelings weren’t in much better shape, guilt over their fight battling with worry and concern for Crona’s safety, a mental war that only left Maka feeling drained and sick.  
When Soul pulled his bike over at Kid’s mansion, the young shinigami having invited them over after school and their trip to plan what to do next, the pair were startled to hear loud crashing sounds coming from inside the house. “Patty?” Soul asked, red eyes confused as they both looked toward the tall black building. “That’s not cool. Kid’s gonna be having fits, it sounds like.”  
“Yup.” Maka sighed wearily. That was just what they needed just then; one of Kid’s famous symmetry tantrums. She took a breath and headed on up the obsidian gravel path, figuring that the sooner the mess was cleaned up, the sooner Kid could think straight on what to do next.   
She pushed open the front door and strode in, Soul swaggering in after her, both wincing at another loud crash. It sounded like it was coming from Kid’s room, which was unusual. Patty was the only person other than Black Star who would dare trigger one of Kid’s OCD attacks, but even she generally respected Kid’s personal sanctuary. As the Maister and Weapon pair trotted up the stairs, they heard Liz’s voice, the gun’s usually calmly amused voice frantic. “Kid, open the door! Damn it, listen to me and open this door!”   
“What’s going on?” Soul asked, beating Maka to the question. Liz spun, eyes worried.   
“We’ve got to get in there, Kid’s having a really bad OCD attack. Patty’s gone to get Doctor Stein, but if we don’t get in there soon he’s going to need Stein’s help for more than just head problems.” Liz slammed her fist against the door, pounding on the dark wood. “KID, OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR NOW!”  
“Let me…” Soul slammed his shoulder against the door; once, twice, three times, four times… On the fifth attempt, the wooden door groaned and smashed open.   
The sight inside the room was sickening, one of the worst things that she had ever seen with any of her friends- other than with Crona and Soul. The walls were dotted with fist-shaped impressions, blood smeared in places and pencils imbedded deeply in others. The white carpet was stained red, gobs of crimson slowly soaking into the ivory-colored velvet, with long rips running up the length. But what was so eerie was the fact that all of this was perfectly symmetrical; the rips were carefully matched, the pattern of pencils mirrored on the opposite wall, and every bloodstain had an exact copy. The bed, chairs and table remained untouched, their pristine cleanliness beside the horrific images around them adding to the freakiness of the room. However, the worst thing in the room was Kid himself.   
The teen shinigami normally looked and dressed impeccably, his half-striped raven hair neatly combed and his movements clean and crisp. Now, however, Kid looked… rumpled. Though he was rumpled in perfect symmetrical harmony; his suit seemed scruffy at the first glance, but with a closer look Maka could see that every cut and wrinkle somehow had a matching partner on the opposite side. His hair was mussed, though it was also mussed symmetrically, and his normally calm double-toned amber eyes were wild, his gaze flicking from person to person in jerky, spasm-like movements. “Disgusting…” Kid’s voice was ragged, and Maka winced as he started laughing, his emotionless chuckles turning into a flurry of wet coughs as he spat another blob of scarlet onto the floor. The boy jolted slightly, as though a cattle prod had just been rammed into his side, then fell to his knees and began carefully replicating the red spatter. Kid squeezed a large gash on his wrist, crimson liquid seeping from the injury to drip onto the floor.   
“Shit…” Liz cursed, Maka turning to see that her friend’s face had paled drastically. “He hasn’t been this bad for years, not since he took us in off the streets.”  
“You’re all… disgusting.” Kid growled and slammed his fists against the floor, wincing as he did so. “No… Just because they’re not symmetrical doesn’t mean that they’re disgusting-“ He whimpered, face shifting back and forth between rage, fear, concentration and nauseation. The nausea won, Kid gagging as he dry heaved before going back to his ragged cackling. “Yes, yes you are. You’re all unbalanced garbage that should be destroyed for your own good.”  
“What do we do?” Maka asked Liz, but the older girl just shrugged helplessly.   
“There’s nothing we can do once he’s gotten himself this bad, other than keep him from hurting himself while we wait for Doctor Stein to get here.”  
Soul gulped audibly as Kid staggered to his feet, the gold gaze directed towards them a fiery ball of utter hatred. “Um, I don’t know if we need to worry so much about him hurting himself, but him hurting us? Now that seems like a very possible problem.”  
Maka had to agree with her Weapon partner as Kid drew nearer, the shinigami never before having seemed threatening to her. But now, he seemed a lot more dangerous than even Medusa had been, and the fact that Maka had seen what Kid was capable of wasn’t helping either. His eyes burned into her, the amber orbs scorching a path from her head to her toes dispassionately. “Tolerable… barely.” Maka wasn’t sure whether she should feel grateful or insulted. The teen frowned, his eyes focusing closely on her as he did a short double take. “There was something I think I was supposed to tell you…”   
Kid wiped a hand over his face, fortunately not appearing to notice as he smeared crimson across the bridge of his nose, his three observers flinching as he did so.   
Maka gasped as the motion drew her eyes to the boy’s hand. The last two knuckles of his hands had been forced to pop out of their sockets making the attached fingers droop uselessly, and Maka really hoped that she wasn’t actually seeing a crimson weeping figure eight carved on the backs of his hands. “Shit!” Liz cursed again, her voice sad.  
Kid stiffened momentarily, then darted forward in a blur. Maka blinked in surprise as it finally registered that he was no longer a few feet away, but right beside her, slamming Liz roughly against the wall. “It is truly astonishing, the havoc you and your sister wreck upon my broken mind.”  
Maka started towards him, but he casually cracked a hand back, the blow sending Maka reeling back. She touched her cheek and winced as it came back red, his ring having left a long scratch down the side of her face.   
The teen shinigami continued on as if nothing had occured, one of his hands going up to cup his Weapon partner’s cheek gently as his soft words continued. “Alone, you are beautifully balanced, a speck of symmetry in a world of asymmetrical beings.” A small smile touched his lips as he stroked Liz’s cheek, Kid’s face softening until he almost looked like himself again. Then his face darkened and his hand moved down to grip her throat in an iron grip, an impressive feat to be able to do with only two fingers and a thumb. “But together, you and Patty are revolting; repulsive pieces of sickening unsymmetrical trash that constantly rip away at my sanity.”  
“Not… COOL!” Soul growled, hauling off and socking their friend hard. Kid fell to the floor, Soul keeping a wary eye on him, while Maka helped Liz stay on her feet.   
“You filth!” Kid’s voice was ragged velvet as he snarled furiously. “How dare you?” Kid slowly stood and glared at Soul, eyes dismissive as he took in the Weapon. “You’re so ugly I can barely stand to look at you, and you dare to think you can touch me? I am the pinnacle of perfect symmetry, my life a shrine to the majesty of balance. You damnable trash, you sicken me.” His hands clenched into painful-looking fists, Kid sneered. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure that your disgusting lack of perfection doesn’t ruin the world for much longer. In fact, you should be gone in just about… five minutes, perhaps a few more or less as the case may be.”   
“Soul…” Maka said, prompting Soul to Manifest. Her partner hesitated before nodding and shifting forms, his orange jacket and blue jeans changing to a long black pole, his arm lengthening and sharpening into the jagged design of a scythe blade. Maka grabbed the staff, twirling the Weapon onto her shoulder with the ease of years of practice. “Kid, calm down.”  
“Yeah, man. Chill out.” Soul’s reflection in the blade nodded, watching their shinigami friend tense.   
“Kid, please don’t make me do this…” Liz gave her Meister a pleading look, but the teen merely sneered and stalked towards Maka and Soul, Maka’s eyes widening as his soul began to hum with power. “I warned you. Guys, you remember what I said about keeping him from hurting himself?”  
“Sure, but-“  
Liz cut Soul off. “Hey, Kid! Your hair only has stripes on one side!”  
Maka and Kid stiffened, Maka stiffening as she realized what Liz was doing, and Kid stiffened as pure horror entered his double toned eyes. The boy fell to his knees, fingers wrapping tightly in his hair as he began to rock back and forth. “Trash, filth, vermin, debris, shinigami waste, refuse, rubbish, garbage, litter, junk…” Kid’s voice was almost normal as he muttered to himself, beginning to shake. Maka frowned as the thought crossed her mind that he was almost acting like Crona in one of his worse panic attacks. “Disgusting, filthy, indecent, revolting, repulsive, sickening, ghastly, sordid, horrible, nauseating…”  
Soul shifted back, kneeling next to the distraught boy. “Hey, dude. You okay?”   
Kid jolted violently, suddenly sitting straight up, though his head still hung against his chest. A low, pained sound began to rock his frame, Maka gulping as she realized that he was laughing again; the sound even rougher than before. “That’s right, there are stripes on only one half of my hair. You are absolutely correct.” Maka could see the long grin that had stretched itself across the boy’s face, a ghoulish smile that showed absolutely no amusement at all. “I’ve been quite remiss in my little mission, wouldn’t you say? Somehow I continually forget just how repulsive I am myself, no matter how hard I try to conceal the fact.” His voice blackened with self-loathing as he slowly got to his feet, Kid chuckled again. “I’m the most sickening being in this room! A shinigami pot calling the Maister and Weapon kettles black.”  
Kid’s frigid laughter choked itself off, turning to loud sobs. “I abhor myself.” Stumbling blindly across the room, the teen slammed into a wall and crumpled to the floor, having knocked himself out cold.  
“Well, fuck…” Soul exhaled, Maka and Liz nodding in perfect agreement.   
“Why don’t we put him on his bed?” Maka suggested. Together, the three of them gently set the young shinigami on his pristine bed.   
They went out into the mansion’s living room to wait for Stein and Patty to get back; figuring Kid was probably going to be out for a while. “So, you’ve seen Kid like this before?”  
“Yeah, or a little worse.” Liz sighed and settled back in her chair as she continued. “Kid was way different when he picked Patty and I off the streets, a lot more cold and self absorbed, if you can believe it… Anyway, he had determined that since we were so asymmetrical that he would have to stick us on a trial period of a month before he decided on whether or not to keep us as his personal Weapons.”  
“Seriously? That’s not cool.”   
Liz shrugged. “We were different then, too. Anyway, about a week or so after we moved in here, Kid got called by his dad to go and hunt down a Kishin egg in Rome. So, we ran on over there on Beelzebub and started attacking the creepy thing, Kid trying his hardest to keep hold of us as he fired on it. You see our souls weren’t exactly on speaking terms, so while we were able to sync up enough so that he could pick us up, every time he fired one of us, not only would the kickback feel three or four times as harsh as it should have, but our handles were burning his hands pretty badly.   
If the Egg hadn’t gone and ate the soul of a nearby little child, we all probably would have died. However, that made all three of us furious at the Kishin egg instead of each other, and we were able to resonate fully for the first time. That was when we found out just how freaky Kid can get when he’s really stressed and tired.   
We hadn't actually gotten to see it yet; it had been keeping itself hidden for the most part. So it was a pretty big surprise when a lopsided skeleton-like Kishin popped out to attack us. Kid freaked out over its asymmetrical nature and started beating the Kishin up, and when it faded away to nothing more than a crimson soul, then Kid started fixing the symmetry of the town. Unfortunately, that involved shooting the buildings to dust, since they had been built in a very unorganized manner. When we shifted back to yell at Kid, he attacked us. Fortunately for us, Kid caught sight of his reflection in a pane of glass and started trying to kill himself by beating his head in with a brick. He managed to knock himself out, we called Lord Death, and he got us a ride home and gave the town more than enough to rebuild itself. After about sixteen or seventeen more such OCD attacks, Lord Death contacted Stein, who made up a batch of pills that help with Kid’s OCD and stress. He’s never had another attack that bad since then, I don’t know why he relapsed today.”  
Maka frowned, realizing something. “Where’s Lord Death? Isn’t he here?”  
Liz nodded, pointing up towards the older shinigami’s room. “Yeah, but he probably took some sleeping pills after Kid talked to him earlier; he’s been doing that a lot lately. To a guy that’s never had a sore throat or an upset stomach, sleeping through the worst of it is definitely preferable to spending most of his time with his head in the toilet.”  
The door burst open, making the three friends jump to their feet, Soul Manifesting as Maka grabbed his handle, swinging him into an offensive position. Then Maka relaxed, recognizing the two soul wavelengths seconds before their owners ran into the room; the spastic and generally scarily cheerful soul of Patty, and the overwhelmingly powerful soul of Professor Stein.   
“I take it that Kid is detained at the moment?” Stein’s voice was calmly monotonous, the calm words a contradiction to the quick pace that the two had had just seconds before.   
“He knocked himself out.” Liz replied, waving in the direction of Kid’s room.  
“How bad was he?” Liz shuddered, Stein nodding thoughtfully as though that had given him all of the information that he needed. “Ah. I’ll be back.”  
It took him about an hour before the professor returned, lightly trotting down the stairs. “He’ll be fine in a day or two. I would personally advise against him wielding either of you two,” nodding towards the Thompson sisters, “for at least three days, to let his fingers heal fully. Also, try and keep him as calm as possible for the next two days or so.”  
Liz nodded seriously, while Patty giggled and clapped. “Do you know why he relapsed?”  
“From what I can understand, he’s been weaning himself off of the medications that I prescribed, and for the last few weeks he hasn’t been taking any at all. That, mixed with the stress of having Crona missing, and seeing anything asymmetrical in his room, is the most probable causes that I can think of for his OCD attack.”   
“Oopsie!” Patty said, looking guilty. “I went and drew a pretty giraffe on Kid’s mirror this morning, but I don’t think I washed it off…”  
“Patty!”  
“In any case,” Stein called attention back to him with a polite cough, “Kid is lucid, and he wants to talk with you all, but Maka especially. He said that it was ‘highly urgent’.”  
“That’s right, earlier he said he thought there was something that he was supposed to tell you, remember? It was right between calling you tolerable and attacking Liz.” Soul reminded her, sticking his thumbs in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.   
Maka nodded and headed up the stairs, the others on her heels. When she opened the door, Maka was somewhat surprised to see Kid sitting on the floor, scrubbing at the bloodstains. “Um, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”  
Kid jumped to his feet, one hand nervously brushing down the front of his suit. “Maka, Soul, Liz, I sincerely apologize for my atrocious behavior; it was heinous of me, and I have no excuses.“  
Maka raised an eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t know, it seems to me that having such an extreme case of OCD is a pretty good excuse to me… In any case, we’re all fine, so no harm done to us. If you should be apologizing to anyone, it’s yourself.”  
“I agree with Maka. Kid, I’ve seen you like this before, it’s not a big deal.” Liz said, setting her hands on her hips. “What is a big deal is not taking your medications without telling Patty or I! What were you thinking?”  
“I disliked the idea of becoming dependent on them to cope with my life, so I thought that I would try and take them only when I truly needed a stress relief.” Kid smiled sheepishly. “And then, when I did need to keep calm, I completely forgot to take them.”  
Soul spoke up, leaning against the wall. “Hey, not getting dependent on drugs is cool, but next time, talk it over with Stein, alright? Freaking us out like that and beating yourself up is not cool.”  
Kid nodded. “Don’t worry, I will.”  
“Was that what you wanted to tell us?” Maka asked, confused.   
Kid’s eyes bulged, and he began to tap his pocket in sequences of eight. “Damn it, how could I have forgotten?”   
“Kid, calm down.” Stein warned him, absently twisting the screw in his head a few clicks. “I will sedate you if you get too anxious.”  
“Fine, fine. Maka, my father was told that Crona has turned traitor; torturing Spirit, then slipping him a virus that made him ill, before going back to the hospital to kill Spirit outright.” Kid flinched as Maka shot a deadly glare in his direction, knowing that Crona could never have betrayed Lord Death again after the shinigami had given him a second chance to live in Death City. “Apparently, Spirit was able to fight back well enough that Crona was forced to retreat.”  
“Crona would never-“ Maka started, only for Kid to wave a dismissing hand.  
“I know, Crona doesn’t have it in him to make my father as ill as he is, let alone trying to kill your father. He would never be willing to hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I’m just telling you what Father told me was his reasoning for sending DWMA agents out to capture or kill Crona.”  
Maka and Liz gasped, Soul paled slightly, and Stein scowled while Patty frowned. “That’s not good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did I catch Kid? Or did he end up kinda like a more OCD version of Crona? {I think he ended up like a more OCD version of Crona} Do you think that anyone's gonna find Crona before he winds up with pin pricks all over his body? How in the heck does that guy know when Crona wakes up, and why is Crona still alive? {Other than the fact that Crona is my favorite character, that is}   
> And how are you supposed to know the answers to the last three questions when I only know the answers to two of those?  
> Nnngh. Anyway, I'm disappointed that no one even hazarded a guess to my challenge so far. It is still going on, though I might go ahead and let it flop by next chapter.   
> Please review, comment, request, or criticize. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	13. Old Bullies and Possible Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long, but my laptop got messed up and I've been having a severe case of writers block. Pressed for time right now, so I'll stick with apologizing for the misinformation in the last authors note. This chapter will not have two memories, sorry. Plus, the one that I have is just barely managing to fit into this story, and it feels a little like a repeat of chapter five [to me]. So, sorry.  
> I don't own Soul Eater.

Chapter Thirteen  
Maka’s POV  
“It’s not like Lord Death to send agents out to kill a student like this…” Stein’s glasses reflected the light into Maka’s eyes, making her blink.  
“We need to go out and find Crona before the agents do.” Maka said, clenching her gloved fists. “Once we’ve done that, then we can find out what’s going on and try to sort this mess out.”  
“I agree. I also believe that it would be better to hide Crona once we’ve found him, at least until I can talk my father into not locking him up or killing him on sight.” Kid agreed, the young shinigami busily cleaning up the last of the bloodstains in his room.  
“The hardest thing is going to be figuring out where he is, though. After all, he’s far enough away that Maka can’t find his soul wavelength when we drove through the desert. Just to explain exactly why that’s such a big deal, she was able to faintly feel his wavelength all the way up at the school from our apartment when she really strained before he disappeared.” Soul put in, sitting on the edge of Kid’s bed. “He could be just about anywhere in the world now, and Lord Death has way more resources that’ll help him find Crona than we do.”  
“Fortunately, I am able to access most of those same resources; anything that Father’s spies or agents tell him, I can probably find a way to overhear.” Kid tugged the cuffs of his suit jacket tight, double-toned amber eyes serious. “Not only that, but once we find out where Crona is, I can find a mission for you that is within a ten mile radius.”  
“That way the school pays for your travelling expenses… Very smart.” Stein nodded his approval, leaning up against the doorframe.  
“So, what do we do right now?” Soul asked, frustration in his voice.  
“Nothing. We can’t do… anything. Not yet.” Maka hated the words that were dropping from her lips, but she spat them out nevertheless. “Without knowing where to find him, going out to look for Crona would be a waste of time and resources.”  
“Wait, we can do something…” Liz got up from bleaching a blood stain, blue eyes furrowed. “Hey, Kid. Didn’t you say that your father said that the main reason that he was having agents act in a hostile manner towards Crona was because of something that some supposed witness said?”  
“Not in those exact words… but yes, I believe that what this mystery witness said directly influenced my father’s choice in putting Crona’s soul on his death list.”  
Maka began to pace, seeing what Liz was getting at. “So, if we find this witness, we should be able to convince him or her to tell the truth about what happened.”  
“What if they’re being blackmailed to do it by one of the townsfolk?” Stein inquired, his head tilting to one side as he carefully watched Maka.  
“Why would that even come up?” Liz asked, shocked.  
“Because of Crona’s past as Medusa’s evil pawn - the Demon Swordsman - Lord Death’s acceptance of him into the academy twice didn’t set well with the city folk. I know that he’s gotten hundreds of complaints from not only the citizens of Death City, but also Crona’s fellow Maister and Weapon classmates.” Stein shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I would be extremely surprised if Crona didn’t receive a multitude of similar letters.”  
“He did,” Maka confirmed, only to have Kid shake his head.  
“He still does. I caught him dumping a sack of envelopes just the other day. When I pressed Crona, he allowed me to read one. The one I read was very aggressive in its suggestion that he leave the Academy, or else.”  
Maka frowned, upset that Crona had been keeping that to himself. One day when she had come to visit him, Crona had been sitting in the corner of his room, crying into a pillow. When Maka asked him what was wrong, he had directed her to a very large pile of letters, all demanding that he leave the academy. She had asked him to talk to Lord Death about having his mail screened, and had thought that either he had, or that the letters had just stopped coming, since she had never seen another letter since that day.  
Apparently he hadn’t.  
“Well, this is not cool. So we’ve basically got most of Death City as suspects who want to get rid of Crona? This sucks.” Soul grouched, falling back onto Kid’s bed.  
“What exactly was Crona accused of, again?” Maka asked, feeling that she was right on the verge of something helpful… There was something just out of reach in her mind, something obvious that was going to pick at her until she got it.  
“From what I can remember, the mystery witness said that Crona was the person who attacked Spirit, then later added a virus to some of my father’s tea and switched out the pills that you,” gesturing toward Stein, “brought to Father, before attempting to kill Spirit again.”  
Maka paled as Kid spoke, suddenly realizing what her mind had been trying to tell her. “Hey, guys. I’m gonna go grab some lunch, anyone want anything?”  
“No, thank you though.”  
“I already ate.”  
“I’ll take a sandwich, if you don’t mind.”  
“Yeah, me too.”  
“Nah. You want me to come with you?” Soul asked, flashing her a small jagged grin.  
“No, I’ll be back soon.” Maka trotted out of the mansion and headed back towards the Academy, hoping that her suspicions were wrong.

Crona’s POV  
Crona slowly gained consciousness, fighting his rising panic as he remembered what had been going on the last few times he regained consciousness. He would wake up, then one to three boys would come in; Crona wasn’t sure how many there were. He wasn’t sure because that while he could see them, they all looked exactly alike… so he didn’t know if there were actually three identical kids in the room, or just one but the serum that they kept injecting him with was just messing with his head.  
Once however many there were came in, then they would start the pain. It wasn’t that bad; Crona had gone through far, far worse, but the sheer length of time that they kept it up would wear down his resistance. The shots- not the sleeping one – weren’t too painful, they just made his head go all foggy. It was the electricity that really got to him. The boys would attach wires to his head and wrists, then suddenly his vision would burst with white spots as electricity coursed through his body. After a while it would get worse, the boys increasing the voltage until Crona screamed in agony.  
It wasn’t like the times when Lady Medusa would have him get captured by her enemies; they weren’t asking him questions. It wasn’t like when Lady Medusa conducted her experiments either. They weren’t stopping to write down what was happening, and they didn’t check any charts. It wasn’t even like when the bullies at school would beat him up; they weren’t beating him senseless, and they weren’t hissing at him about what a horrible person he was. Instead, his tormentors almost treated him like he wasn’t there, joking and laughing with each other while Crona cried out, torturing him for what seemed like forever before finally letting him slip back into slumber with a prick of a needle.  
That was another thing; they never let the pain get bad enough that he fainted… they danced along the line, but they never let him pass out until they gave him the injection.  
This time was different; there weren’t any tormentors there yet. However, how long this would hold true Crona didn’t know. He yanked at his bindings uselessly, only managing to bruise his wrists, ankles, waist and neck. “D-dang it…” Crona growled, forcing himself to struggle harder.  
The door handle rattled, making Crona flinch. He thought fast, letting his head flop down against his chest and feigning unconsciousness. The door opened and two people walked in; one had heavy footsteps - probably a large man- while the other person’s footsteps barely registered at all on the tile floor, the soft sounds that reached Crona’s ears telling him that that person probably was either dragging their feet or limping.  
“I hate doing this. It always seems like an invasion of privacy, you know?” This voice was a weak, tired young girl’s voice, probably the owner of the soft footsteps.  
“I understand, but you understand that what Uncle wants, Uncle gets. Think of it this way; if it were left up to him, the people you do this to would be dead for working for our enemies.” Crona remembered this voice… The deep tones belonged to the guy who had injected him with the sleeping potion the first few times he had been here, before the multiple boys had arrived to fill most of Crona’s waking hours with pain.  
The girl sighed deeply, coming to a halt directly in front of Crona’s chair. “Is this really all that different? I mean, look at him. He looks half dead to me already, and this is just from the preparation.” A petite hand rested on Crona’s forehead while a second pressed against the center of his chest; directly above where Maka always said his soul was. “But I suppose that the sooner I get this over with, the sooner Father will cease this torture.”  
Crona couldn’t help himself and let out a shocked gasp as something… prodded, at his soul, a light, almost airy presence that was utterly unfamiliar. He squirmed in his restraints as the prodding sensation grew stronger and stronger, now almost feeling like something was hammering at his very being. He hadn’t known that anything could directly attack his soul; this was unbelievably uncomfortable and highly frightening. Crona had spent the last few months of his life trying to purify his soul with the help of his friends, so the thought of these people doing something to it was terrifying.  
Crona stiffened and yelped as the sharp jabs suddenly pierced his soul, something wafting into it with the sensation of cool steam. It felt like his soul was being soaked by this unknown soul from the inside out.  
The hand against his head pressed in harder, the girl’s skin warm against his skin. He winced as a splitting headache ripping through his head with the force of a sledgehammer, the pain almost melding with the uncomfortable sensation of…whatever was being done to his soul.  
“Pox and fever…” The girl’s voice was horrified as she spoke, her hands beginning to tremble. “This poor boy…”  
“What’s wrong? Did Cerberus go too far?”  
“No further than Father instructed, but this boy… Crona… he’s gone through worse pain than this in his life, far worse.” The hands were removed, the girl stepping a few steps back. “I hate myself for saying this, but… His mind and soul will have to be far weaker than even this, seeing as how I not only have to reshape-“  
“Hush, let’s continue this conversation outside.”  
The footsteps quickly exited, the door slamming shut behind the two, leaving Crona shaken and very worried.  
Maka’s POV  
Maka strode through the halls and corridors of the DWMA, her pace getting slower and slower as she neared the medical wing until she finally came to a dead stop right in front of the hospital door. “Damn it.” Maka rested her gloved hand against the wall, unable to continue. What if her suspicions were right?  
She leaned forward to press her forehead against the back of her hand. ‘Crona… what happened to you?’ she wondered, her eyes closing tightly. ‘If what you said was right…’ If what Crona had said was right, then his disappearance was probably her father’s fault. Maka knew that she should be in the room already, demanding an answer from Spirit, but…  
It was one thing to half-heartedly dislike her father and just let him think that she hated his guts, the only thing standing between them being Spirit’s irritating and embarrassing habit of still going to Chupacabra. She hadn’t completely gotten over the fact that he had cheated on her mother, but she had grudgingly forgiven him a long time ago. However, if he had actually betrayed the Academy and Lord Death by poisoning the cheerful headmaster, then had blamed it all on Crona…  
Maka’s hand clenched into a fist at the thought, anger and worry burning hand in hand through her mind. “Papa…” She wanted nothing more than to just turn around and pretend that everything was fine. Spirit was out at Chupacabra, sobbing about how his family didn’t love him anymore to one of the various hookers there, and Crona was just hiding somewhere, trying to convince his Weapon partner to keep the origins of where he had gotten his various injuries hidden from his friends.  
Maka had a feeling that Crona’s big secret was that he was still being bullied; it was just the sort of thing that the meek boy would feel bad about sharing. Not because he was embarrassed or afraid of his tormentors, the normal reasons for not letting others know, but because he didn’t want his friends feeling bad about the fact that he was getting hurt in the school that was supposed to be a safe haven of sorts. Maka was unfortunately not just guessing on this.  
_“Why is it that you were the one who reset my alarm clock so we got to class late, you were the one who tried to cheat on our test and you were also the one to get into a frog gut flinging contest with Black Star, and yet I’m stuck here helping you clean?” Maka sent a dirty look Soul’s way, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she saw that he hadn’t even noticed; the albino boy was half-heartedly swishing a mop around on the floor, spreading bleach water over the cold stone._  
_“Black Star’s the one who started the frog fight, but Mifune had already set up an extra tutoring session with him before class. So, he and Tsubaki had an air tight excuse to get out of punishment duties for now.” Soul shrugged casually, apparently not bothered by his blue-haired friend’s antics. “By the way, the whole reason that I delayed your alarm was so that you could finally get some sleep. You stay up half the night after your nightmares, finally falling asleep around dawn only to get woken up to go to school. I figured that skipping one class wasn’t too big of a deal in return for you getting the stick out of your rear that you get when you’re exhausted. And I did not cheat!”_  
_"Really.” Maka stopped wiping off the desk tops to glare flatly at her Weapon partner, not appreciating the reminder of her night terrors. “So, trying to copy off of Crona is something that’s perfectly acceptable, hmm?”_  
_“Come on! I just accidentally saw his paper, and he just happened to have the right answers. Which, just so you know, I did come up with on my own.” Soul wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead before getting back to work._  
_Maka rolled her eyes again, unconvinced that his statement was true since Soul had spent the last few days playing video games instead of studying, the fact that even she had just barely gotten an A on the test while he and Crona had been the only two in the class to receive an A+ not helping his case either._  
_“Speaking of Crona, where in the heck has he been hiding? He always disappears immediately after class, and you can’t find a trace of him until the next day.”_  
_“I think that he’s been in his room. At least, that’s where he’s been every time I go to look for him.”_  
_Soul paused and flopped into a nearby chair, letting his mop lean against Stein’s desk as he propped his head up with his hands. “Hey, why don’t you look around for him now? You know, use your soul wavelength and all that.”_  
_“Alright.” Maka closed her eyes and sent her Grigori soul wavelength out in a wide beam. It immediately picked up on Soul’s soul; the hum that the ball of energy let off sending shivers down Maka’s spine; a constant, tiny version of Soul’s special musical resonation. Further out, she ran into the souls of Professor Stein and Miss Marie. Stein’s soul was a contradictory unto itself; both calmly logical and wildly insane, unable to feel and yet filled with affection towards his friends and students with a little bit of uncertain love towards Miss Marie. Miss Marie’s soul felt like a feather brushing against sensitive skin; the unusual sensation making Maka’s lips twitch upwards while, deeper down, the female teacher had a kind, generous center._  
_Maka pushed her soul out even further, this time coming across Kid, Liz and Patty. They must have been headed back from a talk with Lord Death, because Kid’s soul had the tinge of irritated amusement that it always had after speaking with his highly exuberant father. Liz’s soul was full of weary good humor, while Patty’s bubbled and sparked with excitement, both so similar and yet so different that it hurt Maka’s head to concentrate on their souls for too long._  
_Moving on, she finally found the soul that she had been searching for. When she had first seen Crona’s silver soul she had thought that it was as fragile as a thin glass egg, but as soon as she had embraced it, taking part of it into her own soul, she had realized that he had a truly strong energy. However, the strength in his soul was boxed in and kept at bay by the years of fear, pain and self-hatred that Medusa had forced onto him; leaving him a weak tool for his mother’s amusement. In any case, ever since Maka had first resonated with Crona after she had broken through his weak mental defenses, wiping away the circle in the sand that ‘protected’ his mind against others, Maka had found that she was able to connect deeper with him than anyone other than Soul._  
_She touched Crona’s soul with hers, making a face as the normal feelings of despair, loneliness, fear and self-hatred washed around her with the sensation of sticky oil. Then she jolted, eyes flying wide open as she ran for the door. Maka heard Soul ask her what was going on as he followed, but her attention was on finding where exactly Crona was right now. Sharp pain ripped through Crona’s soul, a short flash of anger and madness quickly drowned out by fear and a noticeable attempt on Crona’s part to calm back down. The pain never stopped, just getting worse and worse as Maka got closer, until both she and Soul heard cruel laughter echoing through an empty wing of the Academy._  
_“Come on, Kishin! Attack me back!”_  
.... _Thud thud THWACK!_  
_“No wonder Albarn was able to defeat the last one, if they’re all this pathetic.” More laughter followed the comment, along with breathless cursing and a wet cough. “Guess what? We don’t want Lord Death’s pet demon here, whether or not the headmaster’s broken your claws and filed down your fangs.”_  
_Maka rounded the corner and froze in horror, the scene in front of her worse than she had thought. Eight Maisters and Weapons stood in a wide circle, the Weapons having Manifested their various limbs while the Maisters held regular weapons. They ringed two figures; Crona was barely able to stand on his feet, blood running down his cheek from a long split across his brow, while the other boy smirked at his obvious discomfort. “Get the freak, Damen!” One of the Weapons cheered the boy in the center on, waving his spiked iron ball of a fist; he was apparently a Mace._  
_Damen cracked his neck as he slowly swaggered over to where Crona was, the lavender-haired boy just watching his approach with a tired look in his eyes- the same emotion wafting through his soul. The bully lashed out a brutal side kick, sending Crona flying back toward the circle of students. Maka expected them to scatter, but instead, they lashed out with their various weapons, Crona smashing to the floor under their assault. Ragnaroc had been cursing their attackers as loudly as he could, the small Weapon forced to grab Crona’s hair in a death grip to stay upright as his Maister was flung around. “R-Ragnaroc, would you p-p-please go back into my blood?” Crona’s soft voice was full of pain, and as Maka watched in frozen horror, he was racked by a painful-looking cough; his entire thin frame shaking at the motion. Black liquid dripped from his lips, slowly oozing down the side of his mouth to leave a small puddle on the floor._  
_“Monster.” Damen’s words were almost cheerful as he grabbed the hand of one of the Weapons, the girl Manifesting into a two tonged blade. “You’d think that all of our little lessons would have gotten the fact into your pink head that no one wants you here, but apparently we’re gonna have to get a little more… convincing.” The bully strode over to where Crona was slowly struggling to his feet, shoving the Weapon hilt deep into Crona’s side. Black blood poured from the wound as Damen ripped the Weapon back out, coating the white floor in ink black ooze before Ragnaroc healed the injury._  
_Maka was still frozen, her mind screaming at her to move and go help Crona while her body just ignored all of her brain’s commands. Crona giggled, making Maka stiffen in a mixture of fear and worry, the sound full of insanity. “Did you know that my blood is black?” Then he paled and shook his head with a wince, his voice shaking but free of madness as he continued. “P-please, st-stop!”_  
“Hear that? The demon wants us to stop hurting him!” Damen leaned in close to the other teen, an ugly sneer splashed across his face. “I wonder how many of your victims begged you to stop.”  
_At the unfair comparison between the two boys, Maka’s paralysis snapped, allowing her to run forward. “How dare you?” The cold growl of her voice made all of the tormentors jump and turn towards her, all instantly paling at being caught. Crona glanced up, Maka feeling a spurt of intense relief and happiness at seeing her splash through his soul before it changed to intense fear, his widening in terror…for her._  
_“M-Maka, run!”_  
_“Yeah, I’d listen to the freak. Run away and pretend that you never saw us, and we’ll give you the same courtesy.”_  
_Maka felt herself shaking with anger at their cowardice. “I don’t think so.”_  
_“All right.” Damen smirked, nodding at his fellow bullies. “Can’t say we didn’t warn you.” He swung his Weapon at her face, intending to leave a mark._  
_CLANGGGG!_  
_Everyone did a double take; Crona somehow having managed to get to his feet,get across the room, get Ragnaroc to come back out in Sword form, and block Damen’s Weapon, all in a mere couple of seconds. Damen yelped and jumped back, no longer so cocky now that his former ‘opponent’ was now ready to fight back. “Are you alright, Crona?” Maka asked worriedly, seeing how the swordsman was holding his side instead of his arm like he usually did._  
_“I-I’m fine.” Crona said dismissively, his gaze flicking between Damen and Maka. “Are you okay?”_  
_“Yeah.”_  
_Crona turned back around, his grip on Ragnaroc tightening. “Ragnaroc, Scream Resonance.”_  
_“It’s about damn time, too.” Thick red lips popped out of the black and silver blade, pursing for a minute before the Weapon hiccupped and screeched at a painfully high level. “Guh-goop gupi!EeeeeYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”_  
_Everyone, Maka included, flinched and winced. Maka felt Crona’s soul grow tense and pained against hers, his soul’s energy shifting uncomfortably. The boy himself closed his eyes, his black-streaked ivory fingers pressing tighter against his side, suddenly screaming in a horrific harmony with his Weapon. His soul trembled violently; flickering from his gentle icy blue soul to an X marked red soul, to a pale blue winged soul, before finally settling on an unnatural violet soul. Maka watched as violet light poured out of Crona and into Ragnaroc; the Sword growing huge, wicked looking jags on his blade as the dark purple energy rippled through him._  
_Maka and all of the bullies clapped their hands to their ears to close out the horrible sounds that Crona and Ragnaroc were making, Maka straightening in quite a bit of relief as Crona’s unusually colored soul reached out and sheltered her from their attack, lightening to almost the same pale shade of lavender as Crona’s hair as his soul melded with her Grigori soul. She watched as the bullies slowly began to crumple and fall to the ground, scarlet leaking from their ears. When the last one had fallen Crona bit off his cry with a whimper, Ragnaroc following suit a minute later as the large pair of lips pulled back into the blade with a sigh._  
_“Are they alright?” Maka asked, feeling mixed feelings on whether or not to hope that they were. She still wasn’t sure if she was glad as Crona nodded._  
_“Y-yeah, as long as Ragnaroc qu-quits screaming after a few m-minutes, it only knocks p-p-people out. We also d-didn’t scream at our h-highest pitch, so th-that helped too.” Crona shrugged and immediately collapsed, his grey eyes rolling up in his head as he lost consciousness. Maka barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor again, his lithe frame lighter than she would have liked._  
_“Does he have another injury that you haven’t been able to heal?” Maka asked Ragnaroc, the Weapon giving her a dirty look before smirking and disappearing into Crona’s bloodstream again._  
_“Why don’t you look and see for yourself?”_  
_Maka frowned, confused by the sudden glint of mischief that had appeared in the Weapon’s x-ed out eyes and his words themselves. Had he intentionally left a wound open to hurt his Maister? It didn’t make any sense and didn’t fit in with the Sword’s usual behavior towards Crona, but why else would he have said something like that?_  
_Maka gently lay Crona down on the floor and began to unbutton his uniform shirt to check for wounds, but just as she had undone the first few fasteners and had gone to pull Crona’s shirt open, Crona’s eyes shot open and he turned pale white. The boy yelped and backpedaled as best he could, yelping again as he accidentally slammed into a wall, one hand whipping up to hold his shirt closed. Maka blinked a few times as Crona hastened to re-button his shirt, wondering why on earth she was feeling embarrassed._  
_“Are you okay? Is there still an open wound somewhere?”_  
_Crona frowned, looking confused as he finished buttoning his shirt back up, his hand then running over the pulled up straight collar of his uniform top to make sure that it hadn’t fallen down. “N-no; Ragnaroc h-healed them all.”_  
_“Then why did you faint?”_  
_Crona flushed and ran a hand through his cropped lavender hair, a few strands sticking up in odd patches. “I d-dunno…”_  
_Ragnaroc poured out of Crona’s back, the small Weapon sneering as he leaned on Crona’s head. “Um, you don’t think having the shit beat out of you might be a cause, do you? You must have taken one too many blows to the head; you’re being a moron.” Ragnaroc laughed loudly, yanking on Crona’s hair roughly. “Though, come to think of it, you were actually like this before today.”_  
_“Ragnaroc…” Crona sighed heavily as he slowly got to his feet, wincing and putting a hand to his head._  
_“But I suppose that these jack-asses could still have caused your idiocy. You could have just gotten whacked wrong on one of the other times they cornered us.”_  
_Crona paled again, dark grey eyes flicking over towards Maka. “Ragnaroc!”_  
_“How long have you been getting bullied?” Maka asked, a growing feeling of dread creeping up on her. Her fears only grew as Crona looked at the floor, the ceiling, the walls; anywhere except directly at her. “Crona, how long?”_  
_“A c-couple of w-weeks.” Crona’s grip moved from his side to his arm, long fingers wrapping around his biceps tightly. “It’s n-not a big deal, really.”_  
_Maka felt her face slowly beginning to turn red as she tried and failed to keep her temper under control. “Yes, this is a big deal. How could you not tell me? Or Lord Death?Or Professor Stein?Or Soul, or Kid, or… somebody?Anybody? Did they threaten you?”_  
_“Yeah.” Crona shrugged, not sounding all that worried about their threats. “But I j-j-just didn’t w-want to drag any of y-you into this m-mess. I’ve already b-been putting you all th-through a lot of w-worry and t-trouble because of what I’ve d-done in my p-past and who I am.” He looked at the floor as his eyes darkened. “Besides, I know th-that I don’t deserve to b-be as happy as I am; n-not after the things that I’ve d-done. So, I l-lke to th-think of this a-as penance, of s-sorts; p-payment for my l-life here.”_  
_Maka grabbed his shoulders, looking him straight in his dark cobalt eyes. “Crona, never think like that. You don’t need to pay penance, at least not like that. Getting yourself hurt doesn’t help anyone; not you, not them, not your friends, not even the people that Medusa forced you to kill. All it does is make you feel bad, it makes them-“ waving a gloved hand at the unconscious bullies, “get closer to becoming Kishin eggs themselves, it makes us, your friends, feel awful when we find out that you’ve been getting beat up for a while in a place that we assured you would be safe, and it does nothing at all for your victims.” She sighed deeply, worry for the thin boy in front of her wriggling through her stomach like Medusa’s snakes. “If you feel that you absolutely have to pay penance, then volunteer somewhere; help the people that are still trying to finish rebuilding Death City, offer your time at the library, put up food at the local food pantry, go and pick up trash on the streets, so on and so forth. Do something productive instead of destructive to feel better about yourself. Please?”_  
_Crona hesitated before he nodded, Maka letting go of his sagged shoulders to wrap him in a tight hug. “A-alright.”_  
Maka shook her head, caught between amazement at the boy’s insanely stubborn sense of protection towards his friends, irritation at his inability to realize that all of his friends hated him being in pain, and hurt surprise that he would have broken his promise to her.  
She shook her head, her short wishful daydream cut short by the heart-broken wail from behind the door, reminding her that Spirit was in the hospital, and that Crona was missing. “Why hasn’t my little Maka come to see her father?”  
“Ugh…” Maka groaned softly, her head falling forward to gently slam against the wall, not looking forward to having to not only deal with asking her father if he had been behind all of the problems at the Academy recently, but also having to do this while he was in one of his clingy moods. “This day just couldn’t get any better, could it?”  
She straightened and tugged on her gloves, working on getting her emotions as controlled as possible as she made sure that her tie was centered, her jacket was smooth, and her shirt was tucked neatly into her skirt. When Maka’s outfit was immaculate, she had sufficiently calmed down enough that her mind was running smoothly once more- not knotted up in worry and fear.  
Maka took a deep breath and swung open the door, striding into the medical wing of the Academy with only the barest of hesitations, ready to ask her father several very hard questions.

Crona’s POV  
Crona howled as electricity crackled through his body, struggling against his restraints hard enough that his wrists were beginning to bleed from where he had scraped them raw. This was the worst torture that he had been forced to undergo so far, having been started off with an injection that had hiked up his sensitivity to pain. It seemed like it had been going on forever, to the point where Crona felt that Lady Medusa’s experiments on him had been mere pinches next to this.  
He could taste black blood, a nasty mix of copper, oil and molasses, from the throbbing wounds in his cheeks and tongue where his three tormentors had shoved a small spiked ball in hismouth before covering his mouth with duct tape. It was actually still in there, a sharp, heavy obstruction that forced him to keep his jaw loose. That got pretty hard, especially when he was used to clenching his teeth during these sessions.  
Crona wasn’t used to losing this much blood; it was making him feel nauseous on top of the pain of the actual torture. Usually Ragnaroc stopped any bleeding, but whatever drugs that his tormentors were keeping him on had apparently messed with Crona’s Weapon companion pretty badly. He hadn’t seen Ragnaroc since that first day, and Crona’s blood had been spilling like any other person’s… well, other than the fact that it was black, and slightly thicker than normal blood.  
“Oy, ya think we’re about done yet? We’ve been at this fer… what? A couple’a hours at the least, right?”  
“Sounds about right ta me. I’m kinda bushed out too.”  
“Nah, let’s give it a few more minutes. Ya know the boss likes stuff ta get done right.”  
The rush of electricity got stronger, Crona having to struggle to keep from letting his jaw snap shut at the white-hot rush of sparks. His cries had long ago turned ragged from screaming so long, the lack of moisture in his throat not helping matters any either. The few times that he had been able to swallow down the pool of blood that constantly gathered in his mouth, he had almost thrown up at the sensation of the slowly moving black ooze sliding stickily down his throat, the dark liquid burning the scratches and raw tissue.  
“Come on… Not like he’s going anywhere.”  
“Fine. If yer want us ter get on Highness’s bad side, then yer can turn it off.”  
Crona sagged in relief as the stream of fiery agony finally stopped, barely feeling the prick as one of the other boys injected him through the slowly dimming jolts of scorching sparks, his body still unconsciously jerking in spasmodic convulsions. He welcomed the descent into oblivion, short as it may be, sighing softly as his vision began to darken.  
“Oy! Yer get the kid moved over, we’ll go out and get some dinner.”  
“Aw, come on!”  
“I’d hurry, didn’t you hear? Cook’s making steak… first come, first serve. If yer take too long, there might just not be any left fer yer.”  
“Which’d be a crying shame, fer sure.”  
“Yer two bite, yer know that?”  
“See yer.” Two of the boys left, leaving the last one alone in the room with Crona.  
Crona vaguely felt the restraints holding him into the chair being loosened and released, a thin arm sliding behind his shoulders to push him forward. One of his arms was draped over the boy’s shoulders before the boy dragged Crona up off of the seat, the boy grunting as he took the brunt of Crona’s weight. “Dang, yer gonna need ter eat pretty soon. Yer lighter than I am.” The boy licked his lips as he half carried half dragged Crona across the room to a strap covered table. “Speaking of eating, I’ve got hurry this up, or I’m gonna get left eating salad… again. Just cause I’m the runt doesn’t mean that I’m a vegetarian.”  
Crona was unceremoniously dumped onto the table, the boy rushing through the task of fastening the various restraints. He cursed loudly as he twisted up some of the leather straps, having to untangle them before he could go on.  
“Ooh… This meat’s reeeal good ternight, don’t yer think?”  
“Oh aye, so juicy and tender. Just the way Junior likes it, isn’t it?”  
“That’s right! Too bad he’s taking so long…”  
The boy cursed again, louder this time. “That’s just plain mean.” He groaned wistfully, his tongue flickering out to run across his teeth as he gazed at the door. “I should go out and get some before those two actually do eat all of the meat up, after all you’re gonna be out of it for a while.” The boy still hesitated, eying the remaining straps, but he growled and darted for the door when more comments on how good the food was drifted into the room.  
Crona’s last coherent thought was one of irritated anger, frustration at the fact that he was this close to escape wriggling through his mind as he slipped into dark unconsciousness. 

_A little while later…_  
Crona bit back a pained yelp as he woke up, his mouth one big raw wound from where the spiked ball had been doing some serious damage. He had a strong suspicion that that was what had woken him up, but for once he was very glad for the additional pain.  
His tormentors had apparently not come back to finish tying him down, the restraints for his left arm still lying limp on the table next to him. Crona swiftly undid the straps that ran over his throat, chest and right arm, sitting up to undo the restraints over his legs. Then he yanked the tape off of his mouth, wincing as he slowly pulled his jaw open and wiggled the ball out from where it had sunk into the roof of his mouth, having to quickly bite down on his shirt sleeve to keep from howling in pain. Crona grimaced at the taste of his black blood, his white shirt stained beyond repair with black streaks and spots.  
“Ragnaroc!” he whispered urgently, getting to his feet. “R-Ragnaroc, I n-need your help r-right now!” Crona felt butterflies of worry for his Weapon start to flutter around in his stomach when Ragnaroc didn’t reply; fear of what his torturers might have done to the rude Sword twisting his stomach into hard knots. He tried to ignore that for the moment, grabbing a scalpel off of the table in the room to use as a temporary weapon as Crona got ready to make a break.  
He took a deep breath, walked over to the door, and carefully cracked it open a sliver. Peering out, Crona saw that the small building he was in was at the side of a large cemetery, gravestones dotting the large courtyard around him. No one was in sight but a tall stone wall surrounded the entire cemetery, broken only by a thick metal gate. Crona pulled the door open as quietly as he could, finding when he had stepped outside that the building he had been kept in was actually a crypt. “Th-that’s not encouraging.”  
He softly crept across the deserted area, scalpel held tightly in his hand, all senses on high alert for any sound or movement. Crona made it over to the metal gate without incident, flinching as the iron gate swung open with a loud screech. He darted back and got ready to attack the first person to come charging in, waiting in the shadows like Lady Medusa had taught him. Crona didn’t know what to think as minute after minute went by without a fuss, the evening light getting dimmer and dimmer as time went by. He slowly padded out, muscles tense as he waited for an attacker to jump him from some hidden spot… But nothing happened. Crickets chirped noisily, cicadas buzzed, and the wind rustled the tree branches and swept through the grass; all perfectly normal noises.  
Crona kept his guard up but began to move quicker, boots crunching the grass as he began to jog forward, headed for a wooded area a few dozen yards away. He reached the tree line and began to relax a little, figuring that if anyone was going to stop him, they would have done it by now. Crona trotted into a small clearing, pausing momentarily to catch his breath and figure out what to do next.  
“Hello.” The deep voice made Crona jump and spin, growing agitated as he searched frantically for the source of the sound. “You’re very fast.” The voice was familiar; the same voice that had talked to him before the three tormentors had arrived, and the one that had been speaking with the girl. “I wasn’t expecting you for another five minutes, at least.”  
“Y-you were exp-p-pecting me?”  
“Yes. I only gave Cerberus a quarter dose of the sedation drug, I figured that you could figure out how to escape the rest of the way on your own. I must admit, I was merely guessing on which direction you would run once you had escaped, but as you can see, it was a successful guess.” Crona’s gaze snapped over to fix on the large figure that had just dropped out of one of the trees, landing on the ground in a crouch with a huff before slowly straightening. “In any case, I fear that the time has come for me to destroy you.”  
A brief smirk flashed across Crona’s face. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that… I’ve hoped that someone would follow through with their threat, but no one is ever able to.”  
“Well. They’re trying to kill you. I, on the other hand, will be breaking you; something for which I wish to apologize to you for from the bottom of my heart.” The voice sounded genuinely sorry, making Crona’s lips twitch up in a sad smile.  
“Don’t apologize. You can’t break something that’s already been broken beyond repair.” He brought the scalpel up into a guard position, wishing that Ragnaroc would hurry up and pop out.  
“Allow me to introduce myself, since I already know who you are.” Glowing orange eyes stared at Crona from the shadows, the figure slowly striding towards him. “My name… is Timor.” 


	14. A Past Battle and a Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Grins sheepishly and waves} Hey, sorry it's been so long...
> 
> {Sighs wearily} This isn't the long chapter that I was hoping for, in fact I think it's one of my shortest ones so far, but it's most of what I've gotten written.   
> My chapters are gonna be pretty darn slow, and I'm really, really sorry about that. However, I will try to find time to work on this story; I don't like it when other people just suddenly stop writing out of nowhere, and I have no desire to be a hypocrite.   
> Anyway... I hope you enjoy this chapter.   
> {waves arms frantically} Wait, wait! I'd like to thank Nina for sticking with my story, and for her reminder... This chapter probably would have not come out for another month or so without it. {sighs in relief and grins} Okay, continue on.

**Chapter Fourteen**  
Crona’s POV  
Timor looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, managing to simultaneously pull off a tall, somewhat lanky look while still being beefy. He had electric orange eyes, buzz-cut gray hair, and wore a white tank top, black gloves and blue jeans.   
“D-doesn’t Timor mean ‘fear’ in… Greek?” Crona asked, racking his brain. He could remember the translation from hours in the library with Maka, but not the language.  
Timor flashed a surprised smile, giving Crona a short, approving nod. “Latin, actually… but yes. There are actually surprisingly few who know that.” His small smile disappeared a moment later, the boy almost visibly remembering that he was supposed to be enemies with Crona. “In any case, my parents actually changed my name when I turned seven or so; it used to be Alex. Do you know why they did that?”  
Crona frowned, still waiting for Ragnaroc. “Named you Alex?”  
Timor blinked, the edges of his lips twitching up for the barest second before he shook his head and regained his ‘intimidating’ look. “No, why they changed it to a name that means fear.”  
“Y-You were scared of a lot?” Crona suggested hopefully, his hopes falling as Timor shook his haead again.   
“No, it was because that while most people fall into one of seven categories; regular people, Maisters, Weapons, Kishin Eggs, Kishin, Witches and Shinigami, I and some of my other family members are in a category never before seen or heard of. I have the unique talent of being able to literally use your fears against you.” Timor lifted one hand, palm up, and made Crona jump backwards in alarm as violent red sparks crackled around the other boy’s hand, falling to the ground in small explosions of scarlet. “This will probably hurt.”  
That was all the warning that the older teen gave before lunging towards Crona, but he still managed to duck out of Timor’s reach. Crona silently thanked his mother for non-intentionally giving him the speed that he possessed, since that was the only thing that was keeping him from being forced to undergo whatever new torture that this tormentor had planned for him. He dodged the attacking hand, quickly slicing at Timor’s arm with the scalpel. Crona missed and barely managed to avoid being caught as he stumbled back. He soon figured out that he was eventually going to get tagged if he stayed here much longer, there only being so many times that Crona could dodge a blow before he grew sloppy.   
Crona turned and darted away, headed for the tall fence that surrounded the graveyard. He scanned the stone, looking for a gate or door, but all he could see was more and more stone. Finally, Crona’s eyes spotted a small door set into the flat wall and he veered towards it, grabbing the handle and giving it a hard yank.   
It refused to open, the wooden frame jiggling mockingly as Crona slammed his shoulder against it to see if it opened outward instead. Suddenly, something pressed against Crona’s back, red-hot pain quickly shooting through his head as he slumped against the door, his legs turning to rubber underneath him. “That isn’t actually a door; it’s just a decoration that Uncle put there to irritate guests.” Timor’s voice was calm, his bright orange eyes almost sad as he watched Crona collapse.  
Crona growled as his head throbbed in pain, feeling like it was about to burst into pieces at any second from the agonizing pressure. It didn’t help as Timor continued to speak, his deep voice making Crona’s head hurt even worse. “This shouldn’t take all that long, if it’s any consolation. You have so many deep, dark terrors that this should be over with quickly. One of the most repetitive is the fear of what could have been… Let’s start with that, shall we?”   
Crona’s vision went red, the pain flaring to an unbearable level before disappearing completely, his sight returning to normal. He shakily got to his feet, grabbing the back of a nearby pew to steady himself. “What?”   
He looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. Crona had collapsed outside in a dark graveyard, but now he was standing in the dimly lit hall of a church.   
“Maka!”  
Crona spun towards Soul’s voice, his relief at finding one of his friends tempered by the fear in the Weapon’s cry. Crona blinked in surprise, not understanding what was going on as he saw what was happening on the other end of the building.  
Maka was dodging the tip of a large black sword, the swordsman wielding it looking more and more frustrated as she managed to avoid being skewered again and again. Maka chanced a glance behind her, her face hardening in determination as she saw two large double doors. “We’re getting out of here!”   
She broke off from her fight to smash her shoulder into the doors, only to find that they wouldn’t open. “Open up!”  
“That’s not going to work, you know.” The swordsman spoke, his quietly smug voice tinged with insanity. He chuckled once, raising his sword. “You really should start paying attention to the things other people say.”  
Crona was having a major sense of déjà vu, although he was having difficulty figuring out what was causing it. He thought that it had something to do with the boy that was attacking Maka, his entire being seeming so familiar. Familiar or not, Crona wasn’t about to stand for anyone attacking Maka. He darted forward to step between the two figures, wishing that Ragnaroc would hurry up and wake up.  
Maka pressed against the doors, her gloved hands shaking until she tightened her grip on Soul. “Oh no…”  
The familiar swordsman let out a maniacal laugh as Crona ran towards them, almost halfway across the room now. “The doors here only open one way! They open INWARDS!”   
“Maka! STOP HIM NOW!” Crona jumped over the back of a pew, hurrying as fast as he could through the maze of seats.  
“But Soul, if I guard, you’ll die!” He ran faster as the swordsman tightened his grip on his sword, preparing to strike. Crona was only a few yards off, he was going to make it… He had to…  
KerSHINGGG!!!  
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”  
Crona skidded to a halt beside the swordsman, his legs beginning to tremble as he beheld the horrible scene before him. “N-no, no, n-n-n-no…” He fell to his knees, feeling Raven’s insane comfort washing questioningly at the entrance of his mind, a mad grin beginning to crack across his face.   
“Maka, why didn’t you just guard?” Soul held the limp form of his Maister, a long crimson slash splitting her lithe form nearly in two. He looked up at the boy next to Crona, hatred in his red eyes. “I’m going to kill you for this, you monster!”   
Crona was still in shock, so much so that he wasn’t able to move fast enough to stop the boy beside him as the swordsman tilted his head and swung his sword again. Soul gurgled wetly, one of his hands going up to the weeping scarlet grin at his throat, before he slowly slumped over Maka’s body – Maister and Weapon companions even in death.   
The swordsman began to laugh jerkily, his shoulders shaking with amusement, and turned just enough so that Crona could finally see his red-streaked face. He stared in horror at the unevenly cropped light lavender hair, the silver eyes that were practically dancing in madness, and the wide, wide grin that was spread across his face.   
“Well done, Crona.” Lady Medusa’s velvet voice purred, the cold sound only in the two boys’ minds. “Eat their souls, and join me out in the courtyard. There’s about to be two more actors in my little show.”  
“Of course, Lady Medusa.” The other Crona bowed slightly, then winced as Ragnaroc flowed back into his wrist and out the other Crona’s back.   
“It’s about time, too! I’m starving!” The Weapon punched his Crona’s head, the blow making the other Crona rock slightly. “Get over there and get their souls for me! HURRY UP!”  
“Okay, okay.” Crona watched in mute despair as his other self stumbled over to the two bodies, plunging his hand deep into their cores to yank out their soft blue souls. Crona had done this a lot before meeting Maka; regular people’s souls just appeared over their bodies after they died and Kishin Eggs’ bodies disappeared after they died, leaving only their red souls, but Maister and Weapon souls took on slightly more corporeal forms inside the body of the deceased, having to be removed by hand. Ragnaroc greedily grabbed the blue orbs, gulping them both down in one bite. The Weapon stiffened, his muscled body tensing as Ragnaroc rode out his short soul high before relaxing and sliding back into Crona’s back with a blissed out smile on his shiny face.  
“Wh-what is this?” Crona sobbed, fingers curling painfully tight in his hair as he tried to push Raven’s insanity back, determined to keep hold of his sanity until he found out what was going on. He flinched as a loud howl of pain echoed through the church hall, Spirit running over to his daughter’s unmoving form.   
“NO! My baby girl…”  
“Spirit…” Dr. Stein set a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I sympathize with you, but we need to take care of the Kishin Egg that did this to-“  
“Shut up!”  
Crona’s mouth was dry, tears running down his cheeks. He stiffened and leapt to his feet as his doppelganger jumped down from the rafters in the roof, Sword Ragnaroc in hand once more.   
Stein spun but wasn’t able to avoid the surprise blow, the hand sparking with his soul’s energy fading as the professor crumpled to the floor. Spirit didn’t even look up, tears flowing down his cheeks as the Scythe cradled Maka’s body, as Ragnaroc’s blade ripped through his chest.   
Crona growled and lunged forward, intent on killing himself with his bare hands… Then he fell to the floor, struck down by a headache so bad it felt as though his other self had just smashed Ragnaroc against his skull.  
“Why is this h-h-h-happening? Why c-can’t I DO anything?”  
He howled as one of the worst headaches he had had yet smashed through his head, making him lose consciousness again. 

Maka’s POV  
Just as Maka was about to go into her father’s room, a hand settled on her shoulder, making her jump. “I thought it was weird for you to go out to get sandwiches instead of just making some over at Kid’s. It’s not cool to keep secrets from your partner, Maka.” She turned to see Soul, a patient smile showing off her Weapon partner’s sharp teeth. “What are you doing here, anyway?”  
“Checking out a hunch.”  
Soul leaned against the wall next to her, red eyes silently encouraging her to continue. “Go on…”  
She sighed and slumped back against the wall as well, making a small face. This wasn’t going to be easy; telling someone else made this seem all the more real…  
“You know how Crona and I weren’t getting along, right?”  
Soul smirked and raised an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yup. I like to think that I’ve got a good enough memory to remember the only time since you two met that you avoided each other for an entire week.”  
“Well, I was mad at him because he had told me that he had seen Spirit… doing things.”  
Soul made a face, sticking out his tongue. “I would think that you’d be mad at your dad, not Crona. Poor guy was probably traumatized.”  
Maka frowned in confusion, then smacked Soul on the arm when his words clicked. “Not like that! Crona said that he had seen Papa doing weird things like changing pills in a bottle and messing with Lord Death’s tea bag or something, and that he had seen Papa walking around. I didn’t believe him, but now that it’s between what some unnamed jerk says and what Crona says… I don’t know. I came here to talk to Spirit and see what he has to say before I make my mind up on anything.”  
“Cool.” Soul grinned jaggedly as he pushed himself off of the wall. “So that’s all that you two were avoiding each other over? Gotta say, I thought it was something bigger.”  
“Papa possibly having poisoned Lord Death isn’t big enough for you?”  
“That’s not what I’m saying… What I meant was is that it doesn’t seem like you two to get so uptight over Crona pulling your tail, so to speak.” Her partner shrugged, running a few fingers under his headband.   
“Well, he also had been lying to me about he had gotten beat up. That in combination with ‘falsely’ accusing my dad of poisoning the headmaster…”  
“How’d he actually get all those bruises? Did Ragnaroc start beating him up again?”  
“No, it turns out that he’s still being bullied by other students here at the Academy.”  
“What? I thought that you said that he’d promised to tell someone if that started up again after-“  
Maka scowled, her hands tightening into balls at her sides. “I know.”  
“Ah.” Soul shifted, probably picking up on her bad mood. “So, you want some backup in there?”  
“Sure, thanks.”  
“No problem.”  
Maka steeled herself and swung the hospital door open, walking in with Soul at her back.  
“Baby girl! You’ve finally come to check on your bedridden papa!” Maka sighed at her dad’s exuberant greeting, already wishing that she could leave.   
“Hello, Papa.”  
“Sup, Spirit?”  
“So what’s going on in your day?”   
Maka blinked, not sure that she’d heard Spirit correctly. “What?”  
“What’s happening in my little angel’s life?” Gooey sky blue eyes practically oozed interest in her direction, something that was as common as Crona yelling or Black Star whispering. While Spirit could be extremely overenthusiastic about seeing her, he hadn’t really been curious about what she had been doing for years.   
“Um… We’re trying to find Crona; he’s been missing for the last week.”  
Was it just her imagination, or had her papa just flinched?  
Spirit chuckled and scratched the back of his head, sitting up in his bed. “I hope you find him, I know how close you two are.”  
Maka stared at him in disbelief. “What?”  
“Aren’t you two a couple?”  
Maka turned bright red. “N-no! We’re just friends!”   
This was definitely unlike her papa… actually noticing smaller details in other people’s lives… not to mention the fact that he wasn’t threatening to kill Crona if he so much as laid a finger on her. Maka had lost count of the times that Spirit had roared warnings to Soul, though her partner was generally nonplussed by the older Scythe’s tantrums. What was going on?  
“So, what’re you doing here?”  
“Before he disappeared, Crona told me some weird things. I just came here to hear what your version of the last few weeks is.”  
Maka blinked; she could have sworn that Spirit’s eyes had just flashed gold when she mentioned Crona. But that was impossible…  
“Well, I got the cr- ah… the snot beat out of me, then spent the rest of the time here in bed.” Spirit shrugged uncomfortably, looking up at the ceiling.  
“What aren’t you telling me?” Maka felt her heart beat speed up a few notches as her papa glanced at her briefly, an unusual look in his eyes, before sighing heavily and plopping back on his bed.   
“Maka, I don’t want you to get hurt. All I’m going to say on the matter is that it may be a good thing that Crona left when he did.”  
Maka felt a growl rising. “What do you mean?”  
“Nothing.” Spirit rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed again. “Please go to class and just forget about Crona, he probably just ran off.”  
Maka started to turn and storm off, but stopped as something under his bed caught her eye. She frowned, wondering why Spirit had a sketchpad under his mattress, then stiffened as a thought occurred to her. Maka walked back over to the side of the bed and began to pull it out, pausing in surprise as Spirit sat up sharply. “Leave that alone, Maka. That’s private.”  
She ignored him and wrestled it free the last little bit, finding that it was in fact Crona’s sketchpad. “Why do you have Crona’s drawings?”   
“I said that’s mine. Give it back, right now.”  
Maka snarled, irritated that all the people around her seemed to have decided that she was a good person to lie to. She flipped the book open, displaying the various beautiful scenes held within. “I don’t remember you ever being this good of an artist, papa.”  
Spirit closed his eyes and let out a loud, angry growl. “Why have you never listened to a word that I’ve ever said? All I’ve ever tried to do was help you, and yet you refuse to allow that.” He opened his eyes and frowned at the ceiling. “Fine. That is Crona’s sketch book. He dropped it here when he tried to kill me the other night. Happy?”  
Maka blanched, hurt as much by Spirit’s words as by the tone he held. She hadn’t heard that tone since he had used it on her mother, years ago when they had gotten their divorce. Maka wavered, about to continue questioning him, but that was when her father turned and she saw his eyes. They burned golden silver, a sharp difference to their normal sky blue color. She took an involuntary step back, and watched in confusion as they quickly faded back to blue as his expression changed to one of concern. “Are you alright?”  
“Y-yeah…” Maka thought quickly. “It’s just a shock to hear that Crona could have betrayed everyone like that. I… I think I need to go think about this.” She turned and walked away as fast as she could, her heart pounding a beat in her chest. Soul hurried after her, his footsteps loud in the deserted corridor. When he caught up with her, he grabbed her elbow to make her pause.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the heck, Maka?! You don’t believe Lord Death when he believes that Crona’s guilty, but after one minute of talking with your dad, you’re convinced of his guilt? That’s not like you.”   
“No, it’s just that now I know with absolute certainty that Papa was involved in this somehow.”  
Soul’s earnest face filled with confusion. “Wh-what?”  
“Did you see his eyes?” Maka asked, hoping that she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.  
“I guess, why?”  
Maka frowned in frustration, knowing that if Soul had seen Spirit’s eyes change color, he wouldn’t have had to ask. “They changed color, Soul.”  
“What?”  
Maka rubbed her forehead, remembering her last conversation with Crona.  
_Maka scowled at the pale boy, her frustration with him causing her to be short with him.“Crona, I don’t know what to tell you! The last time you lied to me, you ended up running away from the academy because you had put one of Medusa’s snakes into Miss Marie’s coffee. I don’t want to wake up one day and find you gone again, I couldn’t stand it! If you can’t tell me what’s going on, I really don’t want to talk with you right now.”_  
_She felt bad as Crona visably pulled into himself more and more during her lecture, but that faded slightly as he gulped and nodded. “A-alright.”_  
_She straightened, relief flooding her mind. Maka had been afraid that Crona no longer trusted her, but she was glad that she had been wrong._  
_“Ab-bout a week after you left is when Spirit first woke up, and Ragnaroc and I noticed that his eyes changed colors every now and then. I don’t know if that has anything to do with the stuff he’s been doing, but-“ Crona shrugged as Maka’s spirits fell, her hands clenching into fists as her temper began to rise. She really hated being lied to, especially from Crona. “A-anyway, the morning that you guys came back, D-Doctor Stein was making up some t-tea bags for Lord Death. He h-had to leave to do something, and Sp-Spirit had me go get him some aspirin, and when I c-came back in…” Crona’s hands also clenched into fists, though his looked more like he was gathering together his courage than getting angry. “Sp-Spirit had done something to Lord Death’s tea bags. Later on, D-Doctor Stein came back and told us that L-Lord Death wasn’t feeling well.”_  
_Maka couldn’t believe what she had just heard, and gave Crona an almost deadly glare as he glanced up, barely feeling a twinge as he flinched and tightened his grip on his arm. “You’re blaming my dad for Lord Death’s illness again?”_  
Maka looked up, green eyes pained. “Crona told me that Papa’s eyes were changing colors just before he disappeared… I didn’t believe him.” She growled and slammed a fist against the closest wall. “Why couldn’t I believe him?”  
Soul shrugged and rested an arm on her shoulder. “I dunno, maybe because that sounds nuts if you haven’t seen it? If I didn’t know that you had destroyed Asura, I’d have thought that his madness had gotten to you after hearing something like that.” He winked and smirked as he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, fortunately having missed her slight flinch at the mention of Asura. “Anyway, what’re we gonna do now? You’re the ‘plan’ person.”  
Maka closed her eyes in concentration, trying to think of something that would help. The thing that they had to figure out now was how to figure out where Crona was… and that was easier said than done. It wasn’t as though they could ask Spirit, the last person to have seen Crona, and Lord Death wasn’t in his right mind at the moment. To tell the truth, there wasn’t anything that Maka could think of that could lead them to where Crona was.   
“I… I don’t know what to do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my few readers, I sincerely apologize for this dud of a chapter after such a long wait. 
> 
> Well...  
> As usual, any critiques, comments or/and requests would be greatly appreciated, and I hope that you enjoyed reading this...  
> {quietly mutters 'though I doubt it' under breath then gives reader a bright grin}  
> Thank you for reading my story!


	15. Uncountable Pasts and an Uncertain Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (repeats beginning of last chapter's Author notes)   
> {grins sheepishly and waves} Hey, sorry it's been so long... Again...
> 
> This chapter is longer than the last chapter (thank heavens), but it also only has one person's POV. I know that specific parts are going to be hard to wrestle with (it's probably about the same as with the mind screens in past chapters), but again, it's the plainest I was able to put it.  
> I may have another chapter out sometime this week, I'm not certain. My school schedule is shaky, so I could end up with a small amount of homework... or a mountain of it. Either way, I'm going to be trying to get my next chapter out much sooner than the last ones.
> 
> I don't own Soul Eater.

                                                                       **Crona’s POV**  
         

  
   Crona hadn’t hated himself this much for a while, not since he’d joined the Academy. However, every time he was forced to watch his double kill one of his friends in an old argument or battle that had ended peacefully or well before, the progress he'd made with his new family had been cracked just a little bit more.   
      
   In addition to watching himself kill the people he cared the most about, Crona was also having to try to keep his timeline straight; for some odd reason, he was reliving his past in an extremely unorganized manner. He might see himself tearing Maka's throat out in her apartment for accusing him of lying, then go back in time and watch his doppelganger manage to goad Black Star into a deadly match instead of watching him speed past him to stop the Kishin's awakening, then go forward again, so on. It was getting to the point where Crona was losing track of what his life had really been like; had he killed Medusa in a fit of madness after seeing her Vector Sword pierce and kill Maka, or had Medusa almost killed him, or had Miss Marie ended up being stabbed instead of either of them?  
    
      Had any of that actually happened? As he watched himself stab the half-dead Lord Death while Maka was fighting the Kishin, tears falling down his cheeks, Crona’s head suddenly felt as though a giant hand had decided to squeeze the life out of it, the teen falling to his knees and gasping at the agony.   
      
    A moment later, the pain disappeared. Crona looked around and blinked, feeling disoriented; while he had just been standing in Maka and Soul’s apartment, he was now kneeling on the ground back at his kidnappers’ crypt, Timor watching him from across the graveyard. “Wh-what?”   
      
   Timor looked ashamed, his rusty orange eyes dim as he slowly made his way over to where Crona was struggling to get to his feet. “I’m sorry…” Crona howled as a red-hot hand pressed against his chest, the gesture itself almost gentle as the larger boy lightly pushed Crona back to the ground as his vision went crimson again. “This is going to be back at ‘home’…”  
   
   Crona's eyes flashed open, the teen jerking to his feet with a yelp as one hand flew up to where Timor's hand had rested. He flinched as he noticed that he was back at the Academy once again, and fearfully looked around for his doppelganger. Crona's brow furrowed in confusion after a few minutes when his look alike didn't appear, his confusion only growing as the bell signalling the end of classes rang; the hall quickly filling with people and noise. Hearing a familiarly narcissistic shout of glee, Crona slipped through the crowd to find Black Star showing off yet again for a small crowd of gawkers. "B-Black Star?"  
   
   "HA! I'm awesome, aren't I?" The blue haired boy took no notice of Crona's tentative remark, though that was hardly irregular. "Check _this_ out!"  Black Star sped through a flurry of kicks, punches, dodges and jumps, his gymnastic skills being mainly ignored as kids tried to get by him. Crona was about to speak up again, when Black Star continued. "This is what I'm going to do to that traitor Crona if he ever even thinks about showing his cowardly face here again..." He held up a fist, the muscular teen focusing his soul wavelength until it crackled around his hand, before slamming it into the nearest wall. The unfortunate wall basically exploded under Black Star's attack, leaving a gaping hole where his hand had made contact. "I can't believe that he would desert the academy twice!"  
   
    "Technically, the first time wasn't completely Crona's fault, Black Star." Tsubaki's soft voice sounded from behind Black Star, the older girl looking vaguely uncomfortable.   
   
    Black Star huffed, his voice uncharacteristically dropping. "Yeah, it was. I can get trying to redeem yourself, but doing it by yourself is idiotic. Unless you're as god-like as I am, which Crona most definitely isn't." The boy gave his Weapon a confused glance. "You aren't seriously siding with him, are you?"  
   
    Tsubaki bit her lip, then shook her head. "No." Black Star shrugged and grinned, his brief moment of being solemn gone, the teen trotting down the hall.   
    
   "Anyway, let's go check out the board! Maybe there’ll be a job there worthy of my mighty skill... Though nothing could ever really be a challenge for a god like me!”  
    
    The boy was so busy bragging to himself that he didn't notice as his Weapon stayed behind, running a hand over the hole he had left in the wall. "No, I'm not siding with Crona. I've actually never understood why Maka wanted him here in the first place; he's pretty much a full time job to keep up with. I deal with you because I need a Maister, and even though you’re a ditzy, self-centered ass, you’re one of the strongest Maisters here... and fortunately you’ve got a soft spot for anyone who’s willing to butter you up. But Maka didn't need Crona for anything... " Tsubaki sighed deeply, her dark blue eyes somber, then shook her head. "I guess it doesn't really matter anymore." She hesitated, then started down the hall in the direction Black Star had gone. "Anyway, I guess I should go make sure that Black Star doesn't get himself killed..."  
    
  Crona had stayed silent throughout this entire affair, flinching with each remark. He slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position on the floor, trying to ignore the pain that had torn through him at the revelation that two of the people that he had considered his friends had never actually liked him.   
   
   He probably would have stayed there, frozen with shocked pain, if it hadn’t been for a familiar figure which darted through the ever-moving throng of students, disappearing down the corridor.  Crona scrambled to his feet and ran after Maka, determined to keep her from dying yet again at his doppelganger's hands. He had figured out that this was all probably in his head, since people generally only died once (the doppelganger could be explained by witchcraft - a really skilled example of witchcraft, but still.), but he kept trying to save her for two reasons. One, it was still just as heart-breaking to watch himself murder the first person to have ever really cared about him as a person in his mind as it would be to see it in real life, and two... well, what if this time was the one time it _wasn't_ all in his head?  
   
   Crona generally stayed away from crowds, but this time he ducked and weaved his way through the loud masses without much more than a slight hesitation. His heart stopped briefly as he lost sight of Maka, then started again as he spotted her black coat as it slipped out the door. Crona hurriedly struggled the rest of the way through the crowd, finally escaping into the almost deafening silence of the outdoors as the doors clicked shut behind him. "Maka!"  
    
   "Crona." Crona's head whipped to the left, looking for the speaker, the voice not belonging to Maka but instead to Soul. "What are you doing back here?" Soul's voice was as unreadable as his eyes, the albino teen looking Crona over slowly.   
     
   "I d-don't know..." Crona struggled to figure out what was going on. **He's looking and talking to me, which should mean that I'm in the present... right? But then, wasn't I just in the present with Timor? How would I have gotten from wherever that was to here? Am I here, or there?** "Wh-where's Maka?"  
    
   Soul's unreadable expression and voice took on slightly angry tones. "Why do you want to know?"  
   
   "Sh-she might be in danger!" Crona, remembering what he had been trying to do, started towards the stairs, only to have a pale hand spin him back around.   
    
  "Oh, so now you're worried about Maka, huh?" Soul growled, the sound dark and full of fury. "Where were you for the last week and a half? For the first few days, she was inconsolable because she thought that yelling at you made you run away from the Academy. Then, once we'd finally gotten her to see that you'd run away because you're still a damn traitor, she was even more depressed. It's been a freaking pain in the ass to keep her spirits up the last few days, but at least she's basically gotten over it now."  
    
  Crona had paled over Soul's words, now understanding Black Star and Tsubaki's comments better. He could see how easy it was to fit him being the guilty party into the puzzle of the odd happenings at the Academy, especially once he had 'run away'. "But I d-didn't run away, I'm pretty sure I was k-kidnapped, and I think Sp-Spirit had something to do with it." He scowled, trying to remember which memories were true and which had been tampered with.   
    
  "I don't want to hear it." Soul rubbed a hand over his mouth, then smirked. "Actually, you actually kind of did me a favor by leaving, so I guess I shouldn't be so mad." The teen's smirk grew slightly, revealing sharp white teeth. "After all, if you hadn't turned traitor on the Academy and lied about it to Maka before running away, she'd probably still be mooning over you and trying to 'save' you from whatever mess you had gotten yourself into." Soul scoffed in disgust, rolling his eyes, then smiled again. "But as it is, she was broken hearted... and guess who she went to for support." A thumb jerked back towards himself. "That's right, her loyal Weapon partner! It's about time, too; we used to be a lot closer before you showed up. After all, resonating souls is one of the most intimate things that you can do with another person." The scowl reappeared. "Oh, wait. You'd know that, wouldn't you? After all, you're about the only Maister in the world probably who can actually freaking resonate with another Maister! Once you two had that little 'tender moment', it was all 'Crona' this, and 'Crona' that. But now that you're out of the picture, it's finally just Maka and me again."  
    
  "B-but I didn't do anything..." The words were an automatic protest, the fight mostly gone from Crona's voice now. He had always wondered if there had been something between the Weapon and Maister pair, ever since he had first fought them in the church, and was not particularly surprised to hear that there had been and possibly was now. Hurt and depressed, yes. Surprised, not so much.   
    
"To tell the truth, I really don't care anymore. Maybe if you hadn't hurt Maka so badly I'd be more open to hearing you out, but after seeing her in this much pain -again- because of you, and experiencing a few days where you aren't mentioned or seen at all, I'm not going to chance it. Get out of Death City, Crona, and don't you dare look back." Soul swung an arm out towards the desert, jerking his chin in the same direction.   
    
  "No." Crona blinked in slight surprise at the calm in his own voice. "I'm not guilty, and I won't leave without letting Maka know that."   
    
  Soul looked Crona over once, then shrugged. "Suit yourself." The Weapon's arm flattened and sharpened, becoming the blade of his Scythe form, while Crona got ready to dodge any oncoming attack. The tension in the air thickened, determined gray eyes warily watching cold red eyes. Then, Soul whipped his left hand up across the blade; slicing a cut along his left palm. "HELP!" Crona flinched at Soul's sudden movement and cry, the Weapon shifting the blade back into the form of an arm. "HELP, IT'S CRONA! HE'S BACK!"  
    
  "Wh-what are you d-doing?" Crona asked, even though he knew exactly what Soul was doing. The question was mostly just a half-hearted attempt to deny the fact that Soul, one of the few people that Crona had trusted and considered a friend, was cutting the last thread of hope that Crona would probably have of being able to tell anyone his side of the story.   
    
  "Soul?" Kid's smooth voice rang out over the courtyard, the young shinigami trotting into sight with Liz and Patty at his heels. "What's going o-" The boy's voice dropped off, double-toned amber eyes glaring with absolute hatred in Crona's direction. "You..." The word was dripping with venomous fury, enough to make Crona take an instinctive step back.   
    
   "Kid-" Crona wondered if he'd somehow messed up some of Kid's symmetry somehow before he'd left, seeing as he'd never seen Kid that angry over anything else.  
    
   "How dare you." Kid's fists were white-knuckled now, the boy shaking with several fairly evident and extremely unpleasant emotions. "How _dare_ you come back after what you did..." Dark gold eyes softened slightly in what seemed like pain before hardening again. "I'm going to destroy you, Crona. I'm going to tear you to pieces and leave your soul out for a Kishin egg to devour, because it's obviously too poisonous for either of my Weapons to eat."  
    
  "Wh-what?" Crona took another step back, wondering what exactly he'd done that was _that_ bad. He glanced over at Liz and Patty, hoping that maybe they'd give him a clue at what he'd done, only to notice that it looked like they'd both been crying. He looked closer at Kid, and could make out a faint redness around the shinigami's eyes. "What h-happened?"  
    
  "What happened?!" Liz growled, suprising Crona. "You asshole! What did you think was going to happen when you poisoned Lord Death? HE DIED, CRONA! Are you happy now? Is that why you came back? To make sure that your plan was successful?"  
    
  Crona went dead white. "L-Lord D-D-Death is d-dead?"   
    
   "Yes, he is." Crona spun, heart racing, as Spirit's voice spoke out behind him. Dr. Stein stood at the doors of the DWMA, holding Spirit in his Scythe form. The reflection of Spirit in the Scythe's blade was unnaturally somber for him, blue eyes dull. "He died yesterday."  
    
    "And a bottle of the toxin that killed him was found in your room." Dr. Stein's glasses glinted as he moved forward, making Crona blink. "That was rather sloppy of you, Crona. I'm a little surprised I didn't notice how dark your soul was getting, however. You'll have to tell me how you managed to keep that hidden for so long." Crona barely managed to dodge the first lightning-fast slash of the Scythe, though, as Dr. Stein continued to attack, Crona's performance got better. Ragnaroc was still not coming out to help, or even to just throw in sarcastic comments at both parties, which was severely freaking Crona out. "Now, I believe."  
    
   Crona frowned, wondering what the professor was talking about, when he felt eight harsh blows hit him from behind; soul bursts from Liz and Patty's Weapon forms knocking him forward several steps. This was more than enough of a distraction to allow Stein to knock Crona's legs out from under him, Crona hitting the cold marble hard. Then came pain; overwhelming agony as his soul was jolted and shocked, Stein's powerful soul ripping and tearing at Crona's soul in a harsh blast.   
    
Crona vaguely noticed Spirit turn back into his human form, and felt as the professor and his old Weapon partner picked him up and dragged him into the Academy, but he was too frozen and dazed from the shock and pain of having his soul attacked to do anything but let it happen.   
    
However, he most definitely heard and saw the halls of the Academy, full of students and teachers, go completely still. Almost as one, they turned to watch the silent procession. Crona could see so many familiar faces, contorted by emotions that he had previously seen mostly just from bullies or his opponents; hatred, disgust, a touch of fear, some relief, a few grins and nasty chuckles, and an unbelievable amount of anger. However, one of the most painful looks he got was from Miss Marie. Marie just shook her head, tears in her eye, in disgusted disappointment.  
    
Finally, they reached Stein's classroom, the two men setting Crona down on a thick metal table in the middle of the room. Working quickly, they tied him down with thick straps around his head, neck, arms and legs. Once they were finished, Spirit left quickly, glancing back once to shudder slightly before closing the door behind him.   
    
"I've been wanting to do this for a while, Crona..." Stein's voice was somewhat dreamy, though Crona could see a bit of madness dancing in his eyes. "Let's see just what Medusa did to you, shall we? I've got ten minutes before Kid tells us what your sentence is going to be, so I'd better hurry." The scientist walked out of Crona's line of sight momentarily, returning with a scalpel and marker in hand. Crona paled as Stein easily cut off his shirt, the man's grey-green eyes widening in surprise as he saw the teen's striped skin. "Fascinating..." Crona couldn't help flinching as Stein ran a finger over one of the larger marks, muttering to himself. "It can't be scabbing; they're too smooth, and the black blood just heals his injuries. I wonder if the black blood is seeping out of his pores, or staining his skin from the inside out? But even those don't make sense; the marks would be in blotches then, not lines."  
    
Stein pushed his glasses up higher on his nose before shrugging and proceeding to draw several broken lines on Crona's torso. "I'm not allowed to kill you, since you may potentially be innocent. At this moment, the new Lord Death, Kid, is in council to hear testimony and look over evidence to decide what your fate is. However, I've been given permission to..." The scientist chuckled, the sound harsh and torn. " _-examine_ you, while we're waiting."   
    
"I didn't... d-do-" Crona was having a hard time being able to get the words out, his mind still scrambled from the professor's soul attack.   
    
"You didn't do anything?" Stein raised an eyebrow and capped the marker with a satisfied nod before tucking it into one of his white labcoat's pockets. "Doubtful, but anything's possible, in theory." He pulled on a pair of white rubber gloves, and with that, Stein began his 'examination'.   
    
At first, all Crona could feel was something cold moving through his skin, which was extremely unpleasant but bearable. However, about a second or so later, his brain was informed that Stein was slicing through his skin; a wave of fire tearing down his chest. This only got worse as he felt Stein's blade run back along the same cut over and over, only pausing briefly now and then to dab a cloth into the injury to soak up the black blood. "Frankly, I'm a bit surprised that the black blood isn't putting up any resistance. I'm not certain whether I should be disappointed or relieved." The cloth descended again, feeling like particularly rough sandpaper against his wound. Stein ignored Crona's gasped moans and whimpers, pulling the now loose skin apart. This was an extremely odd and painful sensation, one that Crona could really have gone without. With that done, Stein left again momentarily. When he came back, he held a small saw, two hooked flat rods, and an odd rectangular metal device. Setting most of these tools on the table beside Crona, Stein slowly set the blade of the saw into his earlier cut; Crona yelping at the sensation of metal directly against his sternum. With a soft hum, the saw whirred to life; Crona's yelp turning into an agonized howl as Stein carefully sliced through the bone.   
    
White spots danced in front of his eyes as the bone popped, Stein quickly setting the saw to one side and using the black-stained cloth to blot up his blood again. Crona's breathing was ragged, a soft, steady whimper escaping his throat. The scientist picked up the rods, slipping the hooked ends under the separate halves of Crona's sternum and pulling the rods; slowly opening the entrance wider. Stein had to stop to slice Crona's skin down further before returning to the agonizingly slow task of opening the teen's chest. Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably actually only a moment or two, Stein slipped the rods back out of Crona's chest and replaced them with the rectangular device Crona had seen before. It barely fit in the opening, Stein having to twist a lever several times to contract the sides before it set into the slick crevise. Once that had been accomplished, Stein turned the same lever the other way, Crona gasping out a pained scream as he felt his ribs being pushed apart further and further.   
    
  The professor eventually stopped, eyes glinting behind his glasses as he peered at Crona's exposed organs, Stein making various interested sounds as he poked and prodded. Both teen and adult jumped slightly when the door to the classroom slammed open, Lord Death storming in with his Death Scythe Spirit in hand.  
    
  Crona blinked, shocked. **I thought they said Lord Death died?** Then he noticed that this Lord Death was shorter and more svelte, with far smaller hands than the original. Kid slipped his father's mask off, his amber eyes burning into Crona. "What's the sentance, Kid?" Stein asked, lazily pulling his black streaked rubber gloves off.   
    
   Kid's fiery gaze turned to Stein, the robed youth giving the professor a flat look. His voice was just as flat, Kid's normally smooth voice practically emotionless. "Death."  
    
   Stein grinned, pulling a cigarette out of a pocket inside his lab coat. "Will I be getting him once you're through?"  
    
   Kid nodded once, the gesture a bare tip of his head. "Yes. Any information you can gather from him will be useful." The shinigami didn't move, gaze steady, until Stein raised an eyebrow and blew out a small cloud of smoke, walking out the door. Once Stein had left, Kid ran a white gloved hand over his face, some of the cold strength he had draped around his shoulders dissolving; the shinigami teen sagging against the door and looking like a lost, extremely weary teen. Then Spirit coughed, and Kid flinched; slipping the mask back into place and squaring his shoulders once more. Crona watched Kid as he stepped forward, holding the Death Scythe slightly awkwardly, the blank eyeholes of the skull shaped mask staring emptily back at Crona. "Crona, you have been found guilty of the crimes of treason, attempted murder, and murder. I, the current Lord Death, will be carrying out the sentence of death." Kid raised the Scythe above his head, Crona catching a glimpse of Spirit's golden-eyed reflection wiggling his fingers in a mocking wave, before bringing it down in a harsh crescent. Crona gasped, a thunder of pain growling through his mind as the blade descended. Just as the Scythe touched his split chest, the teen blacked out.   
    
  Crona twitched and jerked, scrambling up to his feet, hands darting to his chest only to find the bone still whole and concealed by his skin and clothes. He looked around, and was now only slightly surprised to find himself back in the graveyard with Timor. **This _has_ to be the present, since it's the only thing that keeps happening consistantly. Everything else that I'm going through must be something that he's doing.** Crona staggered back a step, making a quick choice to try and escape rather than fight, turning to run, and managed to trip and fall straight into Timor’s arms. **You have got to be kidding me. Is my luck ever going to get better?**   
    
  Red sparks crackled and snapped around the other boy’s hands, the thin bolts snaking down Timor’s fingers to sink into Crona’s wrists. **Nope. Guess not.** Crona scowled, growling darkly as his vision went black again. This time, however, Crona’s vision was all that blacked out; he stayed conscious as his vision slowly faded back into clarity.   
    
  **Ow…** Crona kept his eyes closed as Timor set him down on the ground, the other boy walking away a few steps **. I’m getting sick and tired of this**.  
    
 “Crona?” Crona didn’t have to open his eyes to know who was talking, having heard the same voice in his mind for years. “Do you want to play?” The teen barely hesitated this time, figuring that there wasn’t anyone around that he was worried about hurting, nodding his head a fraction. “Really?!” Raven’s voice was full of surprised excitement, Crona able to hear a large smile in the shadow’s tone. “That’s awesome!”   
    
  Crona felt himself slip into unconsciousness, waking back up on his mind beach; Raven’s shadowy figure sitting next to him on the sandy shore, staring out at the recovered waves. Raven turned, one of the widest smiles that Crona had seen for a long time on its face. “I’m so glad you finally decided to let me help!”  
    
  Crona smiled back, his smile almost emotionless. “Mm. Shall we?” He held out a hand, Raven’s head tilting as its smile shrank slightly.   
    
  “You want to go so soon? We haven’t even gotten to play any!”  
    
“I want to get this over with. Without Ragnaroc, you’re the only way I can escape.” Crona paused, giving Raven a look. “Do you know why Ragnaroc hasn’t been coming out?”  
  
    Raven shrugged, grabbing Crona’s hand. “Possibly.” Crona growled in irritation as the two melded, the teen unable to continue his questioning as he woke back up in the graveyard.   
  
    Crona staggered up to his feet, grabbing the scalpel he had discarded in a time that seemed so long ago, ignoring Timor’s startled noises. A dangerously insane grin crawled across his face, Crona twirling the scalpel between his fingers almost lazily, as he watched Timor cautiously approach him. “How did you-“ Crona flicked the scalpel out, cutting Timor’s words off as the blade sank deeply into the teen’s shoulder. His demented grin grew as Timor cried out, the boy’s hand trembling hard as he slowly pulled the knife out of his shoulder. It was at that moment that Crona finally felt the pop of pain from his back, signaling Ragnaroc’s appearance. “What took you so long, slowpoke?” Ragnaroc was silent, the only response Crona received being a crazed grin and several rolls of the comical figure’s eyes. The teen shrugged and held up a hand, Ragnaroc dissolving back into Crona’s bloodstream long enough to change into his long Sword form, black blood spurting out of Crona’s palm.  “Whatever. Let’s have a little fun, Ragnaroc!”  
  
    Crona’s fingers tightened around the familiar hilt, feeling the relief at the returning appearance of his Weapon even through his surging madness. The next little while was splashed with a mixture of black and red blood, and dotted with anguished screams and demented cackles. Crona finally sank the Sword deep into Timor’s chest, laughing at the horrified agony that was slowly fading from the boy’s orange eyes. “You know, making other people hurt really is fun! Don’t you think? After all, you’re the one who reminded me about this.”  
  
     Timor gurgled and gagged once, then slumped. Crona shrugged and was inspecting his torn black and red stained white uniform when Maka, Black Star and Kid leaped over the wall with their respective Weapons in hand, running forward a few steps before noticing Crona.   
  
    “Crona!” Crona tilted his head, his mad smile still in place as he noticed the relief in his friends’ faces, Maka’s voice echoing in the open graveyard.  
  
    “Crona, are you all ri-“ Tsubaki cut herself off, the girl’s reflected image clapping her hands over her mouth as she saw the carnage.   
  
    “What have you done?” Kid asked, horror in his double amber eyes.   
  
    “Do you want to play?” Crona asked, grinning widely as he licked Timor’s blood off of his fingers.  
  
     “Crona… What happened to you?” Soul asked, red eyes flickering over Crona’s ripped uniform and the black marks visible underneath.   
  
     “Let’s play.” Crona giggled happily, insanity sending a rush of pleasure through his system. “How about tag? I’m It.” He staggered forward, dragging Ragnaroc on the ground as he walked towards the group. None of them moved, so it was almost too easy to swing Ragnaroc up and around, slicing through the muscles and bones in Kid’s neck like butter. For a brief moment, everything stood still, then Kid’s head and body fell to the floor in two separate pieces, and his Weapons began to scream.   
  
      “Kid? KID! NOOOOO!”  
  
      Tsubaki transformed into her Enchanted Sword form from her Kusarigama form, Black Star leaping at Crona. “No one hurts my friends!” Crona grinned wider, bringing Ragnaroc up to block the strong blow, then called on his blood to sharpen.   
  
      “Bloody Needle!”   
  
     Black Star howled as spears of black blood pinned him to the wall around the cemetery, Crona stumbling over to permanently silence the egocentric boy. As Tsubaki changed back, he slit her throat, giggling as her corpse fell onto Black Stars.   
  
        A loud shot rang out, a soul wave length slamming into Crona’s side. He turned to see Patty holding the Weapon version of her sister, pure fury twisting the girl’s face. That expression changed to fear as Crona stumbled towards her, slashing madly. One slice cut a wound on her cheek, another biting through her wrist, a third leaving a deep weeping wound in her side. Crona spun wildly, using the momentum to sink Ragnaroc into Patty’s side, the sword clanging against her spine. He left his Weapon in her body for the moment as Liz transformed back, wailing loudly. Crona snapped her neck easily; just a short smooth jerk, and her body went limp. Crona let her body fall as he pulled Ragnaroc out of her younger sister.  
  
       “That wasn’t cool at all, Crona!” Soul yelled, the boy stabbing his transformed arm through Crona’s back. Crona chuckled madly, tapping the blade protruding from his chest.   
  
      “Did you know my blood is black?”  
  
      “The heck?” Soul yanked on his arm, the black blood gripping around the sharp blade tighter. Crona flipped Ragnaroc into the air, hearing the sword strike home as his body let the Scythe’s blade go. He turned to see Ragnaroc sunk deeply into the albino boy’s shoulder, the black blade totally encased in the other boy’s body.  
  
        Crona yanked the sword out, blood spattering his face. He licked his lips, tasting warm copper. “Yum yum. Your blood is red, did you know? It tastes a lot better than my blood. My blood is black…”  
  
     “C-Crona…” Maka’s voice was horrified, Crona turning to see her standing by the crypt. Her green eyes were filled with tears as she looked over the bloody scene. “Wh-why?”  
  
     He smiled crazily, a giggle escaping him. “Because that’s how you play the game!” The insane teen gestured over at Timor’s corpse with Ragnaroc. “He started the game, I was just finishing it. It’s a good game, you know?” Crona tilted his head, looking at the crying girl. “Why are you so sad? We all had a lot of fun. Would you like to play?”  
  
     “How could you?” The question shot at him, the pain in her tone briefly piercing through his insanity making his face crumple, then the comforting blanket of madness wrapped around him again, and his crazy smile returned.   
  
     “It was really easy, actually. I would have thought that they would put up more of a fight, but I was wrong.” Crona shrugged indifferently, staggering towards her.   
  
     “I trusted you. I believed that you could be stronger than this! How could you betray our trust?”  
  
     Crona chuckled darkly, sinking Ragnaroc into the ground. “I’m Lady Medusa’s son. It was bound to happen eventually.”  
  
     Maka looked up at him, eyes full of hatred. “I never believed any of the people back at the Academy before, but they were right. You really are a monster.”  
       
Crona staggered back a step, his madness having been brutally ripped away with her words. “What? N-no…”  
  
     “I never should have taken pity on you that day; I should have just let you kill yourself from the inside out.”  
  
     Crona put his hands over his ears. “Stop it!”  
  
     “I wish you were dead, you demon!”  
  
     Raven yanked Ragnaroc out of the dirt, clods of bloody mud pulled up with the blade, sending him flying into Crona’s grasp. With a sigh of relief, Crona welcomed Raven’s madness again, grabbing Maka by her throat and slamming her against the wall hard. Stunned, she slumped into his grasp, managing to gasp, “Monster…”   
  
     “Shut up!” Crona yelled, a tear trickling down his cheek.   
  
     “Let’s make her stop.” Raven said, his voice worming through Crona’s mind. “Make her stop hurting us…”  
  
     “No, I-“ Crona started to argue, only to have Maka’s cold voice snap through the silence.  
  
     “I always thought that you were different, better than your mother. But you’re not. You’re worse.”  
  
     Crona felt the last bit of his grasped sanity crumble, leaving only the insanity. He tilted his head, hefting Ragnaroc one-handed as he pushed Maka’s mouth open, grinning as her emerald eyes widened in terror. Crona shoved the blade into her mouth, her scream raw as Ragnaroc sliced through her tongue, silencing the horrible words that hurt worse than any torture Crona had ever gone through. He bent over to pick up the piece of floppy flesh, eyeing it curiously as Maka continued to scream, one long-drawn out howl of pure agony. Crona winked at her, putting one red-splattered finger to his lips. “Shhh…  
  
      He frowned as her cry went on, totally ignoring him. “Be quiet.” Maka’s cry turned into a ragged shriek, only seeming to get louder. Crona scowled, lifting Ragnaroc over her head, judging the angles carefully before stabbing down. The blade went down her throat, cutting off her wordless moans as it sank deeper, the razor edge cutting through some of her skin; making black metal show in spots.    
  
     As Maka fell into death’s cold hands, unbelievably sad green eyes losing their fierce spark as they dulled, Crona howled with laughter as he looked at how nicely she served as a human sheath for Ragnaroc…  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently love cliffhangers...  
> Which is evil...  
> I'm sorry.   
> [Crona pokes his head out from behind Chess, shaking his head 'no']
> 
> I promise I'll be good and work to get the next chapter out soon...  
> (looks at end of chapter again)  
> Wow. I am really, really evil...


	16. A Broken Mind and an Eavesdropper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't a week later, but it's the best I could do.  
> Life is giving me a good beating lately, so...  
> Yeah.   
> There are several POV in here, though I'm sure that I didn't do two of them true justice.  
> My apologies.   
> In any case, I hope you enjoy this...   
> I still... don't own Soul Eater.   
> So sad.

                                                                                      **Chapter Sixteen**  
                                                                                          **Crona's POV**  
  
  Crona continued to laugh for another couple of minutes, shoulders shaking with his chuckles, his stomach hurting and tears trickling out from the corners of his eyes from how hard he was laughing. However, eventually his mad peals managed to peter off, the thin teen's hand slipping into its grip around his left arm as he looked around and slowly dragged himself out of his insanity. "Wh-what did I-I d-d-do..?" Horrified black-gray eyes flicked from one limp form to another, darting over the bloody scene faster and faster - almost as if seeing everything for a shorter amount of time would make it not exist - until they froze upon the crumpled figure of a familiar girl; dusty blonde hair and pale white skin streaked and smeared with black blood. Crona fell to his knees, pure terror flashing across his features, gathering Maka up as gently as he could. "Ragnaroc, g-get back in my b-b-blood."  
  
  Surprisingly enough, the Weapon didn't put up any fight, merely melting into his blood without a protest or insult. Crona watched restlessly as the black blood slowly oozed out of Maka's mouth back into his veins, his stomach turning as he saw the gaping space where her tongue had been. "M-Maka? Maka, please!" There was no response, not that he'd truly expected one. Crona had seen and spread enough death to recognize it when he saw it, but the teen still continued to plead with the girl's corpse; one hand shakily trying to stop the already sluggish flow of black blood from her various injuries. "Maka, wake up. Please... please? Maka? Please w-wake up? Please?"  
  
  "She's dead, Crona." Crona felt Ragnaroc poke his head out of Crona's shoulder, but tried to ignore his Weapon. "Crona. Hey, moron! She's DEAD! D, E, A, D... Dead! She ain't waking up."  
      
   Crona bit his lip hard, only to feel both of his lips twitch upwards. "That's right... She's dead." He giggled and heard insanity in the sound, instantly clapping a hand over his mouth in shock. A short struggle went on in his mind between the comforting pleasure of madness and the harsh pain of sanity before Crona gave up and let his hand fall, bursting out laughing again. "They're ALL dead. I killed them!" Crona leaned back until he was laying on the ground, staring up at the darkening evening sky. "Lady Medusa would be so proud. I'm the perfect son!"   
    
   His laughter rose until the teen was howling at the moon, the crescent seeming to cackle along with the breaking boy. "I'm the perfect companion to death, don't you think? I'm a traitor to Death, but I get along just fine with death. Death, death, Death, death, Death..." Crona suddenly sat stark upright, his dancing eyes falling on the scene around him again. "Now this isn't right. Weapons and Maisters should be together, you know?" He easily hopped to his feet, setting about the task of rearranging the bodies and in some cases reassembling them as well. Crona dragged Patty and Liz on either side of Kid, while Tsubaki was set beside Black Star. However, once he had dropped Soul next to Maka, a brief flash of fury tore across his insane smirk, the teen growling and beginning to brutally kick the albino Weapon's body. "You should have protected her, Soul. But you did nothing. YOU DID NOTHING!"   
    
  With that, Crona broke back up into uncontrollable laughter and bent over; beginning to blindly dig his fingers into Soul's pale skin. He yanked and tugged, feeling the other boy's skin give under his strength, tearing chunks of flesh off in his gleeful frenzy. Crona didn't stop once his fingers scraped against bones, instead slamming a crimson splashed hand down over and over until the ivory snapped. By the time he finally slumped over, tired, Soul had been relegated to a mere pile of skin, muscle and bones. "You should have protected her." Crona's voice was a soft, broken mutter at first, but, as he continued, Crona's voice got louder and louder until he was screaming the words out at the ground, bloody fingers smearing scarlet through his lavender locks as they tugged at his hair painfully. "You should have protected her. You should have protected her! You should have PROTECTED HER! YOU SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HER, C-CRONA!"   
     
  His voice cracked and broke, echoing the last remnants of his mind. "I should have protected her... I should have protected her... I should have protected her... I should have protected her..." The teen began to rock back and forth, his right hand slowly untangling itself from his hair to grab his arm; fingers digging in almost as hard to his skin as they had to Soul's. "I should have protected her... I should have protected her..."

                                                                                      **Mystery Woman POV**  
  
   The woman hopped off the top of the wall surrounding the cemetery, landing easily on the pads of her feet. Her dark gold eyes looked the mumbling teen over, a look of pity, sorrow and worry flicking over her face as her eyes glinted a far lighter gold before her eyes returned to their original color, the woman shaking her head vigorously as her expression hardened. "Tsch. How irritating."   
  
   She knelt in front of Crona's rocking form, one hand moving out to grab his chin and tilt his head up; forcing their eyes to meet. However, other than a brief baring of teeth in a mad grin that slipped away almost instantly, the teen didn't acknowledge her in the slightest, his nearly black eyes remaining dull and his voice still monotone as he droned on and on. "I should have protected her... I should have protected her... I should have protected her..."  
  
  "Was this really necessary?" The woman grimaced slightly the moment the words left her mouth, immediately letting Crona go and wiping her hand on her black lab coat as she stood once more. "No matter what your girl can do with a broken mind, it doesn't change the fact that it is in fact broken."  
  
  "Yes... It is necessary." Orange eyes stared calmly back at her when she glanced over, the muscular teen sitting with his back up against a tree. "I wish it wasn't, but it is. Uncle told my cousin what he wanted done, and, while she can do an amazing amount with a whole, healthy person, it takes far too much out of her. And for what Uncle wants done, she needs his mind as unprotected and weak as possible. Hence, broken."  
  
  "Mm." The woman sighed slightly, breaking her staring battle with the boy to look back at Crona. "I'll get to watch her, of course?"  
  
  "Yes, Ma'am." She could hear the shudder in her companion's voice, and smirked to herself as she turned and began walking back towards the wall.   
  
  "Excellent. Let me know when everything is set up, Timor." Her smirk grew wider as she heard a weary sigh sound behind her, along with an acknowledging grunt as he got up as well. She muttered to herself momentarily, then felt the ground under her shoot her into the air; the woman lightly landing on the top of the wall. The woman glanced back, only to see Timor stopped beside Crona. Curious, she silently hopped to the top of the crypt in front of her and crept forward until she was within earshot. From there, as she strained, she could just hear Timor's low, mournful voice.  
  
  "-old you I would break you. And again, I sincerely apologize."  
  
  **How... interesting.** The woman smirked again as she stole back, thinking over what all she had seen over the time that Crona was under Timor's... spell? She hadn't ever met a witch with these sorts of spells before, but there wasn't a Reaper, Weapon or Maister that had these powers either. He couldn't have been telling the truth about being an entirely separate species... could he?   
  
                                                                                   **Black Star POV**  
  
  Black Star stared at the book intently, his dark green eyes running over the words on the page. One eyebrow went up… then slammed down into a furrow with its partner, the teen’s knuckles whitening around the sides of the book as he continued to read. The minutes stretched out…  
  
  The muscular youth growled darkly and slammed the book closed, dropping it carelessly onto the floor as he snapped up to his feet with a relieved grunt. “Who cares about some dumb test anyway?” Black Star stretched, listening with satisfaction as his spine snapped and popped back into alignment, twisting his upper torso from one side to the other before walking into the kitchen of his small house.   
  
  Technically, it was really Sid’s house, but the zombie had long ago given the building to the boy; the tall man himself moving the few unbroken belongings that he had left into a separate building on the DWMA property. Black Star dug through the small ice box, grumbling at the apparent lack of ready-to-eat food, before abandoning it to grab an apple off the counter and returning to the living room. He plopped down onto one of the cushions on the floor, trying to ignore the school book that still lay on the floor a few feet in front of him, doing his best to completely annihilate the apple. Licking the sticky juice off of his fingers, Black Star wiped the last remnants off onto his loose black trousers and sighed heavily, his eyes drawn back to the book.   
  
**I did promise Tsubaki that I’d try to do better on this assignment… Not that I ever don’t try.** He sighed again, then reluctantly leaned over and grabbed the book; flipping back to where he had left off.   
  
‘The various powers ttah Witches can have are as fowsllo;  
Magic and/or usCrse; the ability ot amnpileuat eht neyger onwnk omcolynm as Mciag, sometimes ni the amrnne fo Cusrngi.’  
  
  Black Star blinked and rubbed the back of his wrist against his eyes hard, scowling and looking back down.   
  
‘Transformation; most Witches rae able ot ranstofrm otin eth ofrm of na nmiaal, othuohg heert rae a ewf saces wrehe they smut tiluzei theor amnenrs ot neter tacula mianlsa bdieos.’  
  
  The teen growled darkly, but forged on nevertheless, determined to make it through the section.   
  
‘Magic Snese; a few iWhtcse avhe deomndsradet het alibtyi ot sense miagalc repwo ni eroths ohw contain gMaci.  
‘Lngvetioy; all hiWtcesh vahe lgenor ilves hant manHu.’  
  
  Black Star sighed in relief as he finished reading the paragraph and dropped the book as though it had caught on fire, rubbing his eyes again and massaging his forehead. “That’s more than enough of that." **I can't say I didn't try, now.** He tossed the cushions to one side, shoving the book away, and began working out; starting out with good old plain pushups. “One, two, three, four…” While he easily shoved himself up and eased down, Black Star began thinking over what had happened yesterday. Maka had messaged him and Tsubaki, asking them to come over to Kid’s house. Once they had gotten there, Maka had proceeded to tell them that Lord Death was sick enough to think that sending people out to take Crona down was alright, and that it was Maka’s dad’s fault. Well, those weren’t her exact words, but it was close enough.  
  
  _Black Star was curious why Maka had looked so serious; the girl was always serious, but when her reflection had appeared in the blue-haired teen’s mirror, her expression was devoid of anything but seriousness… with maybe a touch of fear or discord, which was kind of terrifying. If Maka was scared enough to show it, then there was something really wrong in the world. **Which is obviously why she wanted me.** Black Star grinned, the slight worry that had descended on his mind dissolving instantly at his thought, quickly trotting up the last few steps and kicking open Kid’s door. “I, the awesome BLACK STAR, have arrived! You may now relax; everything’s going to be fine!”_  
 _  
  “Hey, Black Star.” Soul lazily saluted Black Star from his seat on the black couch in the main room of the lower floor of the building, exposing his sharp teeth in a friendly grin. Behind the couch, Maka and Liz turned, the girls looking like they had been talking. Patty was currently trying to balance a paper giraffe on top of an unusually tired looking Kid’s head, the teen shinigami’s posture nothing less than perfect as he nodded in Black Star’s direction and bore his younger Weapon’s… whatever Patty did. Stein was sitting halfway up the staircase, watching everything with an amused smirk, a cigarette loosely drooping from the corner of his mouth._  
 _  
  “Good, you’re both here.” Black Star heard and felt his Weapon silently slip inside behind him, closing the door as Maka spoke up. “Thank you for coming over so quickly.”_  
 _  
  “Hey, I know you can’t stand me being away too long. It’s natural, and no one could accuse me of being selfish with my amazing self!” Black Star grinned, striking a pose and flexing. His smile grew as everyone simultaneously rolled their eyes, except for Soul, knowing that they were all just privately wishing they were him. **Obviously.** _  
_  
  “Sure, Maka.” Tsubaki stepped past Black Star, the teen letting his pose slip and dropping into the seat beside Soul. “Is everything alright? You sounded… stressed.”_  
 _  
  Maka frowned and smoothed a gloved hand down her jacket, looking distinctly unhappy. “Lord Death believes that Crona is responsible for Papa's injuries and his own illness…”_  
 _  
  “Why?” Black Star and Tsubaki spoke in unison, a somewhat rare occurrence. Black Star grinned and flashed his Weapon partner a thumbs up, Tsubaki giving him a faint smile, before Maka continued and they both returned their attention to the blonde Maister. _  
_  
  “Because..." Black Star tilted his head as his friend hesitated momentarily, wondering what would make Maka pause. "Because Papa told him that Crona was the one who attacked him." **Oh. I guess that might do the trick.** He exchanged a confused look with Tsubaki, the boy shocked at the idea of the easily pushed-around Crona getting enough courage and spite together to attack Maka's dad. **I mean, he's supposedly a big bad Demon Swordsman, but without that witch manipulating him, Crona's about as dangerous as a puppy. Really, the likelyhood that Crona did anything to Spirit is just about as big as me getting beaten by... well, anyone, really. It just doesn't happen. But then, Spirit doesn't really lie, either... Why would he start by accusing Crona of something that so obviously couldn't be true?**_  
 _  
  "Did he?" Black Star always figured it never hurt to ask, but quickly reevaluated his opinion as Maka turned and glared daggers in his direction. _  
_  
  "Makaaaa..." **Oh, shit...** "CHOP!" The blue haired teen yelped loudly, holding his aching head as a still-glaring Maka set down an unfortunately large dictionary on the table beside her. "No, Black Star, Crona would never hurt Papa. I might once this is all over, but Crona didn't." She rested a hand lightly on the book, gloved fingers tracing the letters on the cover as her eyes glazed over slightly, the girl apparently lost in thought. _  
_  
  "Geez, alright..." Black Star winced as he spoke, a nasty headache settling in in addition to the sore spot on his head. "I was just asking. So then why'd Spirit say he did?"_  
 _  
  After it became clear after a few minutes that Maka wasn't going to reply, the girl still staring out blankly into space, Kid took over. The shinigami took the giraffe off his head and handed it back to Patty, the girl absently accepting it as she stared at Black Star in an mutually accepted staring war, as he got to his feet, then cleared his throat politely. At the sound, Black Star automatically glanced over at Kid, losing the staring war. He frowned, disappointed, as Patty grinned and stuck her tongue out at him teasingly. "If I may. We haven't been able to come up with a reasonable idea for why Spirit has chosen to betray my father, how he truly did obtain his injuries, or what his overall plan is. However, before he disappeared, Crona apparently attempted to tell Maka about several suspicious scenes that he had seen play out around Spirit; he said that he saw Spirit switch out my father's medication, walk freely before he reasonably should have been able to, and do something unknown to Father's teabags." Kid adjusted his brooch slightly, tugging it to the dead center of his shirt and twisting it so that the teeth pointed straight down. "Also, Crona claimed that Spirit's eyes changed color on these occasions, a claim which Maka was able to verify earlier today when she visited him. She also found Crona's sketchbook in his room, which Spirit attempted to hide from her."   
    
  Black Star blinked, wishing his friends wouldn't talk like this so often; it made it harder for him to keep up with the conversation._  
 _"What's all that got to do with anything?"_  
 _  
  Kid began tapping his pocket sporadically, the formal teen beginning to pace. "It means that Crona and Spirit are both accusing each other of the exact same crimes... and the evidence that we have incriminates both parties equally. The only extra evidence is the fact that Spirit's eyes apparently change colors occasionally, a fact which was brought to our attention by Crona, but we can't definitively prove that they do, and, even if we could, it wouldn't really do anything to prove that Crona is the innocent party."_  
 _  
  Black Star's eye twitched slightly, the teen wondering if Kid was doing this on purpose. "So?"_  
 _  
  Kid frowned, his hand rapidly tapping out a pattern on his pocket, then sighed and ran his hand down his pocket; smoothing out the wrinkles his tapping had created. "So, we have two stories, one from Crona's side and one from Spirit's, and they are both exactly the same except for three things." Kid held up his hands, flicking up the first finger on both hands. "One; Crona's story includes Spirit's eyes changing color - something that Maka has seen and can affirm." Up went the second fingers, Black Star snickering to himself at the thought that Kid was almost flipping them all off with both hands. "Two; Spirit's story includes Crona being the person who beat him. Even though this can not be confirmed as there were no witnesses, Spirit is a Death Scythe which gives his testimony more weight. Plus, he was beaten by someone... and Crona's past makes him an easy scapegoat." Kid flicked up his ring fingers, probably unaware that his hands almost looked like an upside down version of his brooch now. "And three; they each blame the other. Crona was certain that Spirit was the one at fault, and Spirit is adamant that Crona should be blamed." _  
_  
  Black Star's eyes widened, the boy finally catching on. "Oh."_  
 _  
  "Indeed." Kid grimaced, beginning to pace again. "And this is especially troubling since Father has sent agents out to arrest or kill Crona."_  
 _  
  "What?!" Black Star jumped to his feet, hands clenching into fists. "Where is he?" The teen wasn't quite certain which 'he' he was referring to; Spirit, Crona or Lord Death. Either one would work at the moment; he'd beat Spirit back into a pulp for making Crona look even worse to the town, academy and headmaster, he'd yell at Lord Death for being stupid enough to believe the worst of Crona so quickly, and he'd give Crona a hard noogie for putting his friends through so much worry. _  
_  
   "We don't know where Crona is at the moment. Fortunately, neither does Father." Kid sighed and sat down again, fingers lacing together over his lap. "I just found out about Father's plan this morning, but I'm fairly confident that I can find out whatever his men tell him when they report in."_  
 _  
  "And if Kid happens to be unable to eavesdrop, I have no doubts that Lord Death will keep me informed." Dr. Stein spoke up for the first time, Black Star tensing as he felt the strength of the other Maister's soul suddenly come into focus, the doctor somehow having managed to sneak up behind Black Star without the teen noticing. Black Star turned, his dark green eyes meeting Stein's silver-green eyes, hackles rising at the doctor's coldly calm voice. **I really, really don't like him.**_  
 _  
  As always when Black Star felt uncomfortable, he grinned widely and flexed as he crowed about himself. "And if all that fails, I, the greatest star in the world, will hunt Crona down using my awesome ninja skills!"_  
 _  
  Stein's lips twitched up in a faint smirk, sending shivers running down the teen's back - as he remembered what all Stein could and would do when he felt like it... or caught students trying to cheat - the older Maister adjusting his glasses and staring at Black Star with unflickering focus. "Really..." Generally, Black Star didn't mind people watching him; after all, he was so awe-inspiring that people really couldn't help staring, but when Stein stared, it made Black Star's skin crawl. _  
_  
  "R-really." Black Star was surprised at the weak croak that escaped his throat, even with the pressure of Stein's gaze on him, and followed it up with a much more confident laugh. "Of course!" _  
_  
  Stein held his gaze for another few silent seconds, Black Star feeling a drop of sweat slowly trickle down his back, before shrugging and turning to walk back up the staircase once more. "That should prove interesting. I wish you luck."_  
 _  
  "I don't need luck; I'm the mluph-" Black Star started, only stopping when Patty inexplicably shoved her giraffe in his mouth. _  
_  
  He could have sworn she muttered, "RIP, pretty giraffe. At least you died for a good cause." It was soft enough that Black Star could have been hearing things, but he wasn't certain. In any case, her cerulean blue eyes were rapidly filling with pure glee, the girl cackling in amusement at his rapidly reddening face. "You look silly!"_  
 _  
  Black Star growled indignantly and quickly spat the soggy paper animal out onto the floor, then tackled the giggling blonde. "How dare you!" Both wrestling teens ignored the group groan from their friends as they traded blows, Patty somehow managing to come out on top as they fell; Black Star grunting as his back slammed into the small coffee table in the center of the room...and then through the coffee table. _  
_  
  "That was a gift for Father's two hundred and fifty seventh birthday!" Kid's voice moaned, somewhere off to the side. "Oh dear."_  
 _  
  Black Star grinned and rolled the two around until he had Patty in a tight headlock, absently listening to Tsubaki apologizing to Kid and Liz. He stopped listening when Patty elbowed him hard in the gut, following the blow up with one of the most painful pinches he'd ever felt on his arm. Black Star yelped and released Patty, who immediately slammed her head back into his face with the impact of a sledgehammer before clambering around to give him a far-too-tight hug around his neck from behind. _  
_  
  Black Star smirked and staggered to his feet, dragging the girl up with him, before reaching up to grab hold of her wrists and flipping her hard over his left shoulder; the girl flying through the air to crash into the very recently vacated couch. The couch tipped over, sending Patty rolling onto the floor, Black Star charging over the obstacle to... get punched hard in the nose - which was still sore from getting head butted earlier. "Ow!"_  
 _  
  "Guys, could you, I dunno... not? This isn't cool at all." _  
_  
  Both ignored Soul, Black Star grabbing Patty's fists in his hands as she attempted to punch him again and using his superior strength to push her back. At least, he did until she kicked him in the groin, pain forcing him to his knees. "That... was... dirty..." Patty giggled and clapped, adding insult to injury by sitting on his shoulders while he moaned._  
 _  
  "Are you two done?" Maka was back to herself, apparently. "Good. It doesn't really look like there's all that much that we can do until Lord Death's agents find out where Crona is, but still try to keep an eye and ear out for anything that might be connected to this, please. The longer Crona's out there, the more that public opinion is going to turn against him. It's a lot easier to blame someone who has a bad background that isn't here than it is to blame a good student to his face."_  
 _  
  "So you called us over to tell us that there's nothing we can do?" Black Star grunted, shoving Patty off of his back and getting to his feet. He had to do a quick skip to the side to avoid getting a teen hugging his legs together, Black Star taking a few more steps just for safety's sake and shooting cautious glances at Patty every now and then - even though she seemed to have gotten fascinated in the white marble flooring, humming some tune to herself as she traced the lines in the stone with her fingers. "What's the point in that?"_  
 _  
  "They called us over to tell us that there's a plot going on behind Crona's disappearance, Black Star." Black Star rubbed the back of his neck as Tsubaki gently chastised him, sighing at not being able to do anything. _  
_  
  "Right." **Forgot that... Oops.** "But isn't there anything we can do?" _  
  
  "Not that I've been able to think of."  
  
  "Ninety-six... ninety-seven... ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred." Black Star rolled over onto his back once he'd finished his set, staring up at the ceiling. **There's got to be something that I can at least try. It's stupid to just sit around, waiting!** He started working on crunches, hands tapping the tops of his knees every time he pulled his upper torso up. **What did Kid say about the differences between Crona and Spirits' arguments? Um... There wasn't anybody around to prove that Spirit was lying about Crona attacking him, and... Crona and Maka said that Spirit's eyes change colors now and then!** Black Star flipped up to a standing position, eyes bright with excitement. "Hey, that'd be cool to see. Maybe I can figure out what makes them change color! Who knows, that might be able to help Crona somehow." **In any case, it's a lot more interesting than hanging out here doing schoolwork, that's for sure.**  
  
  The teen slipped out the door, trotting out towards the Academy building.

   
                                                                            **Tsubaki's POV**  
   Tsubaki was feeling rather tired, and had more than a few regrets for the day lined up. First off, she regretted having not gone back to sleep that morning when she heard Black Star getting into a fight with one of the other Maisters in their class outside her window, instead going out at three in the morning - why Black Star, or a better question, why the other Maister was up at three in the morning she never found out - to calm both parties down. Her next regret was having skipped breakfast, since she had gotten up later than usual because of being up at three, to get to class on time. Tsubaki's third regret was having answered several rather easy questions on today's test incorrectly, but that was one of her smaller regrets. She regretted not having gone with Kid, Maka, Soul and Liz after classes to check over the scene where Spirit had been found to look for anything proving that his attacker wasn't Crona. She really regretted having agreed to keep an eye on Patty for Liz; the younger Thompson sister staying behind since the last time that everyone had gone up to the scene, Patty had refused to leave the train until it had started to leave the station... resulting in Kid having to ride Beelzebub beside the moving train until Patty hopped off and tackled him. But her biggest and most heart felt regret of the day had to be agreeing to play hide and seek with Patty in the Academy. Patty had almost immediately found her, and now Tsubaki was searching through the school with the sinking feeling that the younger girl was probably going to be just as hard to find as Crona.   
  
  Especially since she had been searching for the past hour.   
  
  The DWMA was never exactly quiet; the halls always having a student or two on their way to use one of the empty classrooms, or going to check on the job board, or carrying a comrade to the Infirmary, or one of several other dozen things, but today the school seemed to be filled with more people and noise than usual. Every so often, Tsubaki would hear a loud commotion break out somewhere in the academy for several minutes before going still again, several grumpy people storming away from the areas of the noise a few minutes later. Being slightly occupied at the moment with finding her charge, Tsubaki had been ignoring the distractions as best that she could.   
  
  "You're not very good at this." Patty poked her head out from behind one of the desks that Tsubaki could have sworn she had just checked. "Why is Black Star following Spirit around?" The younger teen hopped over the desk, not paying any attention to Tsubaki's heroic focus on trying not to strangle both Patty and Black Star. "Do you know? He's been making a lot of messes."  
  
  Tsubaki took a deep, calming breath before smiling and shaking her head - not quite to the point of being able to talk without snapping yet.   
  
  "Wanna go ask him?" Tsubaki's eyes bulged, the girl waving her hands frantically as her head whipped back and forth in an emphatic 'no'.   
  
  "Is that a yes? Okay. I'll go and find him. Follow me!" With that, Patty began to cheerfully skip down the hall, leaving an extremely unhappy Tsubaki staring desolately at her back before sighing and following the Thompson.  
  
  By the time that Tsubaki caught up with Patty, the Gun had not only caught up with Black Star... she had gotten into another fight with him. Currently, Patty was kneeling on Black Star's back, screeching, "TELL ME!" into his ear while he winced and tried to push himself up, while a rather large crowd gaped at the (somewhat) unusual scene. Tsubaki watched this for a few minutes - reflecting with slight amusement how if it was anyone else doing this to Black Star, they'd be unconscious and bruised by now - before pulling a reluctant Patty off of her Maister's back. Patty still managed to land another kick in Black Star's side before giving up, Tsubaki strategically stepping between the two just as added insurance.   
  
   "Ow." Black Star rubbed his side with a grimace, giving Patty a somewhat wounded look. "What was that for?"  
  
   "You didn't tell me what you were doing!"  
  
  "You didn't give me a chance!"  
  
  "You're just a slow talker."  
  
  "You're too fast!"  
  
  "Thank you!"  
  
  "THAT WASN'T A COMPLIMENT!"  
  
  Patty stuck her tongue out at Black Star, smirking as the blue haired boy lunged for her only to grab air. "I guess it was just a fact. After all, if I wasn't fast, you'd have caught me. Either that," the Gun patted Black Star's cheek patronizingly, one eyelid drooping in a lazy wink. "-or you're just slow." With an evil cackle Patty dashed down the hall, the enraged Maister on her heels. Suddenly, he stopped and turned back around, a pained look crossing his face as he slowly walked back to where a shocked Tsubaki stood. That was one of the first times that she had ever seen him control his temper, and it was just as surprising as the very first time.  
  
  "I really hate her sometimes." Black Star let out an animalistic growl, then sighed heavily and turned his attention on a figure on the other side of the room. Following his gaze, Tsubaki saw the familiar red head of Spirit, the Death Scythe in the process of leaving the room. "Drat it!" Black Star tore across the room, a ruckus of complaints following him as he rammed through the crowd, Tsubaki following him out of curiosity. After all, I now know that I have less than no chance of finding Patty if she doesn't want to be found. If she does, then she'll hopefully find us.  
  
  "So what exactly are you doing?"  
  
  "I'm trying to see Spirit's eyes change, and find out why they change. But he keeps spotting me! I don't know how he does it; I'm a master of stealth-"  
  
  "Yeah, right." Patty reappeared, wiggling her fingers in a childish wave in their direction. "In the library, you stood on top of the bookshelves and tipped them over, you tipped over the cafeteria ladies when you were 'sneaking' along on the opposite side of the line from Spirit, you-"  
  
  "Hey! Those were accidents!" Black Star cut the girl off, Tsubaki getting the sense that there were quite a few more scenes on her list, huffily folding his arms and glaring a hole in the floor. "Objects are thrust away from my mightiness; I can't control it." Patty rolled her eyes, but didn't continue.   
  
  Tsubaki bit her lip, dark blue eyes pensive. "Patty, Black Star, would you two mind waiting here for an hour? You-" looking at Black Star, "-actually had a good idea. But, no offense meant, I think that I can be less noticeable than you."  
  
  Black Star gave her a wounded look, absently cracking his knuckles. "You don't need to sound so surprised, any idea that I've ever had is pure wisdom. And yeah, I guess I can take a break and let you have a crack at him."  
  
  "Thank you." Tsubaki glanced over at Patty, the girl nodding enthusiastically.  
  
  "Sure."  
  
  With that, Tsubaki slipped past the overly active pair and almost immediately blended in with the small crowd in the room. Spirit cast several wary glances in Black Star and Patty's direction, the Death Scythe switching rooms several times and walking through dozens of the winding corridors before he finally relaxed. Tsubaki silently darted forward to duck into the doorway in front of her as Spirit turned into the dungeons, waiting several long seconds before trotting forward and following him down the stairs. To her surprise, Spirit headed for Crona's room, the man grimacing as he noticed that the door only locked from the outside. "I forget that this is technically a holding cell..." Shrugging, Spirit pushed the door open and entered the room, the door not quite closing behind him. Tsubaki thanked her lucky stars -which, now that she was thinking about it, had apparently just decided to start doing anything today - for that, since she would have had no idea what he was doing if it had closed completely. Sneaking forward, she slowly pushed the door open wide enough to realize that Spirit was in Crona's bathroom and guess that he was using the mirror to call someone.   
  
  "-eah, but, as far as I can tell, it's only Black Star and possibly Maka who are particularly suspicious. Other than that, I'm good."   
  
   There was a short pause, then a deeper voice that Tsubaki had never heard before replied, "That's relieving. How is your mission going, other than that?"  
  
  "It's actually surprisingly easy; Lord Death really is one of the easiest people to poison. For being the being in charge of a school of killers, he's amazingly trusting; he just accepts the soup I bring over without question. Stein's been very protective of Lord Death's medicine, though, so I haven't been able to switch those out as often anymore." Tsubaki's mouth dropped open as Spirit openly admitted that he had been poisoning Lord Death, the girl not quite truly believing that the goofy Death Scythe was capable of such a surprising betrayal until now. There was a somewhat longer pause, then, "How's the kid doing?" There was a definite amount of guilt in the man's voice, along with genuine curiosity.   
  
  "Crona is..." the other voice hesitated, then continued in a somewhat forced cheer, "-he's coming around, slowly but surely. He's proving to be more difficult to convince than you were."  
  
  Spirit seemed to either not notice or care about the discomfort of his companion, since Tsubaki could clearly hear true amusement in the older Weapon's voice as he laughed. "Well, he's a smart kid; I'm sure you'll be able to persuade him eventually."  
  
  "Speaking of kids, have you found a way to take out the younger shinigami, Kid?"  
  
  "Ah, that shouldn't be too hard either. The kid's obsessed with symmetry; if I make him something to eat that's perfectly symmetrical, it'd probably make his day." Tsubaki raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated with how little concern Spirit seemed to have with murdering her friend and his father. **At least he won't succeed with his first try; Kid would probably be too awestruck with not having to rearrange his meal himself to eat it.** "Hey, where should I go after the job's done? I'm going to have to get out of here pretty quick."  
  
  "You come back here, of course."   
  
  Spirit's irritated sigh was easily audible across the room, Tsubaki having been slowly opening the door a sliver at a time. The door was now almost open enough for Tsubaki to stick her head through it to sneak a peek at the person that Spirit was talking to; just another inch or so to go. "Come on, you really think I remember where the hell that creepy place is? I wasn't paying attention when you brought me in, and I was barely conscious when you brought me back out!"  
  
  "I'm sorry, you have a valid point. We're in-"  
  
  _**CRASH!**_  
  
  Tsubaki jumped at the sudden crack of noise, then scowled darkly as two loud voices began arguing with each other. "I TOLD you you couldn't jump that far quietly!"  
  
  "You did not! You dared me to!"  
  
  "Says who?"  
  
  "I say! And the word of the magnificent Black Star is unshakeable!"  
  
   "No, the word of the magnificent Black Star is loud! What kind of a ninja goes around yelling?"  
  
  "At least I don't get distracted every three seconds by thinking about giraffes!"  
  
  "No, you just get distracted every other second by yourself!"  
  
  Tsubaki's eye twitched hard, the teen taking several calming breaths before getting to her feet and opening the door. "There you two are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" She glanced over to where a pale Spirit stood... next to a blank mirror. **Damn it... I was so _close_.** "Oh, hello, Mr. Albarn!" Tsubaki gave him a sheepish smile and wave, before grabbing Black Star and Patty's arms and dragging them out. "Sorry to have bothered you, sir!"  
  
  "N-not at all, Tsubaki."  
  
  Once they were back up to the first floor of the Academy, Tsubaki released her friends with a soft growl. "What happened to waiting back in the other room?"  
  
  Both teens immediately looked sheepish, though both still wore small smirks. "We got bored."  
  
  Tsubaki waited for the story that would follow their statement. "And?"  
  
  Patty and Black Star exchanged a confused glance, then simoultaineously shrugged. "And we stopped being bored."  
  
  Tsubaki blew a loud breath out, absently dreaming of having a peaceful Maister and friends, and shook her head wearily. "Alright. Well, at least I have a little bit of extra information for everyone once they get back..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...  
> Yeah.   
> Any guesses on who the Mystery Woman is? I think it was fairly obvious, but then I was the one writing out my idea.  
> I apologize to any fans of Black Star or Tsubaki who didn't appreciate my renditions of their viewpoints.  
> And the Black Star - Patty thing just... happened. I never really intended that to be there, but it came out that way. I'm not even particularly a Black Star/Patty fan, which is what makes that so confusing to me...  
> {shrugs}  
> Anyway.  
> Please comment, review, request or criticize.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it..!


	17. Golden Rain and a Business Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...  
> Timor feels bad, is unnerved by a (possibly) mystery woman, and watches his cousin do something to an unconscious Crona.  
> Crona suffers through a case of extreme guilt and experiences golden rain.  
> And Kid, Liz, Maka and Soul find something they hadn't really expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {waves}  
> Hey...  
> I've been trying to get this out for the last week, but between a mental blank, having a birthday, having the brakes on the truck melt (don't ask) and various other small disasters at home... it didn't happen.   
> I think that this chapter has the most short POVs in one chapter so far... {grimaces slightly} This made it feel rather choppy to me, but it was the only way I could figure to put all of what was going on at the same time together in any semblance of order (I think it still didn't quite work, though... {droops and sighs} Oh, well.).   
> Just to make it perfectly clear, this chapter is set the day after everything that happened in the last chapter. {frowns and makes a note to recheck my chapter timeline... I think I may have messed up in a few places}  
> In any case...  
> I do not own Soul Eater. (Luckily for Soul Eater)  
> I hope you enjoy!

                                                                          **Chapter Seventeen  
****Timor's POV  
**     Timor was having to swallow down quite a bit of guilt, the husky teen never having enjoyed using his particular 'talent' on others. Especially not to this extent. He looked down at the other teen who had been restrained once more yesterday evening, as much to keep him from hurting himself as to keep him from possibly escaping, wincing as he noticed the pale youth's lips moving; Crona hadn't stopped mumbling to himself over, even though his actual voice had dried out an hour ago from overuse. Timor winced as the boy's name slipped into his mind, the teen generally preferring to distance himself as far as possible from his victims - there really wasn't anything else he could call them than 'victims', seeing as he was only capable of hurting with his powers - until everything was said and done. It was bad enough seeing what they went through while he attacked them; Timor was forced to see everything that they did, though it was more like watching horrific plays to him than watching real life play out - unlike his victims, Timor was perfectly aware of where and when he actually was, and could even hold conversations with other people while trying to ignore the spectacle.   
    While he generally felt guilty over attacking anyone, this boy had especially moved him; Timor was used to seeing his victims go through mental and physical pain while under the influence of his attacks - feared relatives or enemies would exact their revenge in agonizing methods, people would fall off cliffs, drown, have walls close in on them, some adults might be forced to see everything they had worked for and built destroyed in front of them, monsters would leap out of shadows to tear children to bits, teens might go through social ostracisation, and one rather unique fear had had a crowd of clowns chase the victim around for a while. And while the lanky teen in front of him had certainly had some fears that revolved around himself - a cruel mother who tortured him within an inch of his life, friends who hated and attacked him, several sessions with nothing but pitch black around him and the occasional sound of a sharp squeak, giant black snakes that would wrap around him and slowly crush him - Timor had been absolutely flabbergasted when he saw himself die in one of the boy's fears. He had rarely seen himself in people's fears and the few times that he had, he had been a tormentor... not a corpse. Fears were generally extremely selfish things; people were rarely afraid of things that wouldn't hurt them. Even if it was guaranteed to kill everything else on the planet, as long as it wouldn't hurt _them_ , people would usually be fine with anything. But Crona- the boy, had had a shocking number of fears for other people. He had actually been afraid of killing Timor, otherwise it wouldn't have shown up in his vision.   
    It could technically be argued that even this was technically a fear for the boy's own self; he was apparently terrified of losing his control on his madness, which  had a tendency to be the closest to overwhelming him when he fought and when his emotions were unstable - both of which would probably occur with Timor's death - but still.    
    Timor sighed heavily and glanced down at his watch, frowning slightly as he noted the time. **What's taking Memoria so long? I sent Cerberus for her quite a while ago... I hope she's alright**. The teen bit his lip, worry beginning to mix with the guilt already swimming in his stomach. **I'll wait another five minutes before I go look for them.**  
    He noticed some of Crona- the boy's, wounds beginning to heal over, Timor briefly toying with idea of pretending he hadn't seen it before fear of his uncle's anger drove him over to a nearby counter to fill a needle with the drugs that had proven best at keeping the other boy's Weapon/blood under. "Sorry," Timor murmured, before sliding the needle into Crona's arm - he could tell that it was definitely time for the injection; it took more pressure than normal to insert the needle, the boy's blood having thickened heavily - and emptying the needle's liquid load.   
    Through this, the other boy did little more than smirk faintly as the point of the needle sank into his skin and shudder as the drugs took effect, his wounds slowly ceasing to close. Crona's smirk grew until a wide, almost emotionless grin was stretched across his face, making it Timor's turn to shudder as broken eyes suddenly snapped over to meet his. He watched, a shiver running down his back, as Crona's gaze faded in and out from silver to near black and back again, the irises dancing and shaking as they flicked in and out of focus, the boy's head tilting slightly as his lips continued to move - mouthing out the words 'I should have protected her'.   
     Timor walked back over to the other side of the room, mentally using the excuse that it would be easier to see when anyone was coming to cover up the fact that being that close to the broken boy was adding tender to the fire of his guilt... and that his insane gaze was freaking the daylights out of Timor; the lavender haired boy managing to give 'Fear' a taste of his own medicine.   
  
                                                                       **Ragnaroc's POV**  
    Ragnaroc was not in a good mood.  
    He hadn't been for the last dozen or so days, ever since Crona's torture had begun. Things had been bad enough when Rude had just been unconscious, but now the other Ragnaroc was occasionally waking up... only to start screaming and convulsing in pain from whatever it was that Crona's tormentors injected into Crona's blood. It was almost a relief now when Rude was asleep, rather than a worry.  
   It didn't help matters that Rude wasn't the only one to be feeling the effects of Crona's injections. Ragnaroc wasn't exactly in pain, but he did feel like he had an extreme case of sea sickness. It had started to go away earlier, enough so that Ragnaroc had been able to concentrate enough to start healing Crona's injuries. But then, another injection had sent Ragnaroc back to the floor, the teen dry heaving until he was sore.   
    Oh, yeah. There was also the unwanted companion that had shown up a few hours ago, and had refused to leave. That was _definitely_ not helping Ragnaroc's mood.   
    "Will you please go away?!" Ragnaroc dragged one eye open to glare darkly at the shadowy figure, then abruptly closed it again and moaned as another wave of dizziness and nausea twisted and shook his stomach, pulling himself into a tighter ball on his bed to try and ease his discomfort.  
     Raven tilted its head, the holes where its eyes and mouth were moving slightly until it was smiling sadly. "No, I don't think that's a good idea." The shadow was in its more substantial form; looking like a Crona-shaped figure of thick shadows instead of just a normal two- dimensional shadow. It was currently sitting on the foot of Ragnaroc's bed, staring at him.   
    "Why do you go away when Crona asks, but you don't when I ask?" Ragnaroc bore Raven's unwavering gaze for another few seconds before blurting, "And will you kindly quit staring at me? Geez!"  
     Raven blinked and gave Ragnaroc a soft smile before turning to face the screen showing what Crona was seeing. "Sorry. And I do what Crona says because he's the main part of me. You can't really disobey yourself. You're kind of part of Crona, but mostly you're Ragnaroc. I don't have to do what Ragnaroc says, anymore than Crona does."  
      "Whatever." Ragnaroc paled and gagged as his stomach lurched again, wishing the shadow would go away. He watched Raven as it got up and walked across the room, glaring at the image of Timor on the screen.   
      "He's going to pay for what he did..."  
      Ragnaroc's only excuse for what he said next was that he was feeling extremely ill. "Why? I'd think that you'd be happy; you're in charge around here now that Crona's basically gone."  
       Raven stiffened and turned, blank eye holes staring at Ragnaroc in a manner which he could have sworn was reproachful. "You really think that of me?" The shadow's voice was slightly angry as it strode back. "Really? I could have easily taken control of Crona at any time, especially after the Kishin was released, but I didn't. Instead, I left Crona with the freedom of choice as to whether or not accept me - his madness, his... " Raven brought its hand up and let out a wry laugh, looking at it. "His 'dark side'. The part of him that enjoys hurting, killing, destroying. The part that can exist after the rest of his mind has been smashed beyond repair. The part that is almost never sad." Raven dropped its hand and slumped slightly, looking - despite what it had just said - somewhat sad as it slowly trudged back over to sit in one of the chairs. "No. I'm not happy about this. There's not much more that I'd like to do right now than take control of Crona and destroy every miserable person that took part in hurting him, but if I do... I won't just stop with these people. That would take self control, and I don't have that. I'm not that part of Crona. Instead, I'd continue on to the Academy and kill every one of those weak bullies who thought it was fun to mess with someone who refused to fight back for himself. Then I'd go on to Spirit who shipped Crona out here in the first place, and then move on to the teachers who sneered and tried their hardest to make Crona feel bad about himself in class." Raven's words were calm, but Ragnaroc could see the insane smile spreading across its face as it spoke. "Eventually, I'd slaughter every person in Death City, because of course they'd come running when it came out that I was on a killing rampage. Then would come Lord Death himself, followed by Kid and the Thompsons... Black Star and Tsubaki would probably be the easiest of Crona's friends, since that stupid assassin is so full of himself it never occurs to him that he makes his strengths and weaknesses plain as day. Finally, it would be Maka and Soul. Even if they had come before then, they'd still have had to have been delayed until last."   
   Every hair on Ragnaroc's back and arms was on end now, horrified fear momentarily distracting him from his discomfort, his complete focus on Raven and its gruesome plans.   
   A mad cackle escaped Raven, the shadow's voice almost dreamy now. "I'd have a little bit of fun with Soul, just because I figure that he and Maka probably do have a thing for each other and Crona has a thing for Maka. Petty, maybe. Fun, definitely. Then... Maka." Raven's smile was a terrifying thing to see, insanity exuding from the shadow almost like a fog. "I've always had a thing for her hair ever since Crona first saw her... Maybe I might pull it out and keep it as a souvenir. I'll definitely dig her eyes out first, whatever I do. Those eyes. Crona was hurt by what he last saw in those eyes, so it's just fair play to make the last thing she sees hurt her as well." Raven laughed, its head tilting back slightly. "I'll tear her open like a present. She'll be a present to me, with her soul being the gift inside. Crona never ate a human soul himself before, which is why his personal soul was able to be so pure, but I'll turn it a dark crimson; the color his blood used to be before you were shoved in it. I wonder what her soul will taste like? I hope it tastes good. She'll be my first soul... then I'll eat everyone's souls. I'll be the new, bigger, badder Kishin, just like Mother dearest wanted."   
    Ragnaroc was shaking now, trembling in utter terror at the amount of eager, violent dreaminess in the shadow's voice. **This is really, really bad... and there's absolutely nothing I can do**. Raven's head slowly turned until the blank eye holes were staring at Ragnaroc again. "You see, everything I want to do is the exact opposite of what Crona strives for. He wants to keep his friends, he wants to start dealing with his problems himself, and he really hates killing or even hurting others. Or rather, he hates how much, deep down, he truly loves and revels in it. So, to keep from destroying what remains of Crona, I can't take over. Certainly, Crona's mind is overrun with insanity right now, since Crona himself isn't around to stuff it down into a corner, but there's just no one at the wheel... so to speak. That's why I shouldn't leave; if I do, I'll be taking control. This is about the only place that I can be right now that I stay an observer, not a participator. If I go back out into Crona's beach - the place where sanity and insanity can be equally influenced, and even destroyed - then insanity will override his temporary neutrality and send his body on a killing rampage, even though I wouldn't be doing anything but providing the insanity."  
    Ragnaroc relaxed slightly once he realized that Raven wasn't planning on taking over Crona, though it was going to take a while to lose the fear that the shadow's monologue had provoked. "What do you mean?"  
     Raven frowned thoughtfully, then continued. "Crona is both sane and insane. That's pretty normal in and of itself. However, most people usually have these two states of mind bundled together; some may be more sane, some may be more insane, and others may wax and wane between the two... though it does seem as though Maisters have a tendency towards having separated sanity and insanity.  In any case, both states of mind are _almost_ always connected and inseparable. However, because of some of Medusa's experiments, I - his insanity, more or less - was separated from his sanity and given a consciousness of my own. Crona is perfectly sane, and so is able to think clearer than he would if I were still melded with his insanity. He also feels all emotions other than mischief, pleasure and delight far more intensely.   
      In any case, the 'beach' is the place in his mind where his insanity and sanity were once melded. That is also the only place where one is able to work with the other. This is why that is the place I brought Crona when he wanted me to take his guilt away; that's the only place I could. However, instead of taking complete command - which actually would have destroyed his sanity, I left Crona in control enough to keep my destructive nature somewhat in check; with every question we either answered or passed, insanity retreated and sanity took over once more. Right now, Crona is not..." Raven paused, looking extremely unhappy and uncomfortable. "His sanity is scattered too much at the moment to be able to keep my nature in check; if I went into the beach room, insanity would smother what little remains of Crona's sanity. His will - as unlikely as it may seem - had been at least twice as strong as mine - one of the reasons that I've been his 'shadow' instead of a 'twin'- so he could handle my being around him before. Now, though... really, I'm only still a shadow because I wasn't wanting to get used to being the more 'powerful' presence."   
    Ragnaroc felt his stomach drop as he heard exactly how much trouble Crona was in, the teen rolling over onto his belly to dry heave again over the side of his bed before turning back onto his back. He glanced back up to where Raven was standing, only to start and yelp in shocked surprise. For the first time ever, Crona was standing in the room, though he seemed much more... more, than usual. His pale skin almost seemed to glow, his lavender hair looked like it had just been washed and combed, and his outfit - a black version of his white uniform- was crisp and sharp, somehow making the teen look slightly more masculine than usual. However, what tipped Ragnaroc off that it wasn't truly Crona was the boy's eyes; there was no white or iris, he really couldn't even tell if there were pupils, all there seemed to be was black. Raven grinned, revealing black teeth, and then stuck out a tongue... which was a matching shade of black. "This is what I really look like right now."  
    Ragnaroc blinked. "Wow..."  
    "Yeah. I was a little surprised too." Raven brushed a hand down his uniform, his grin widening momentarily before disappearing. "But if I'm this strong, you can probably guess how weak Crona is right now. Going into the 'beach' isn't an option at the moment."  
    Ragnaroc wearily held up a finger, the movement seeming to take all of his strength.   
    "Yes?"  
    "So, if you're as strong as Crona generally is and you can't go in without destroying him, then how were you able to go in there with him when he was as strong willed as he apparently was?"  
    Raven's smile lit up again; Ragnaroc simultaneously feeling happy and amused at seeing Crona look so pleased and proud of him, and irritated that Raven was actually the one standing there. "That is an excellent question, Ragnaroc!" The shadow's smile faltered momentarily, then fell. "The reason is that Crona's sanity strives to build and heal, while my insanity strives to destroy and hurt. The only way I would be in danger is if-" Raven cut himself off, smirking slightly. "Never mind. Anyway, while my insanity was still trying to destroy his sanity before, his will was strong enough to block mine from causing any lasting damage. Now... yeah, no. That just wouldn't work. So, I've got to stay in here, where my excess of madness is blocked off."  
     Ragnaroc yawned, his eyes heavy. "That makes sense." **It's about time I get to go to sleep, it's the only time I don't feel sick**. As he began to fall asleep, Ragnaroc cracked an eye open. "Hey, Raven."  
      Raven turned, black eyes curious. "Yes, Ragnaroc?"  
      Ragnaroc paused, then gave Crona's insanity a smile. "Thanks."  
      A look of absolutely shocked surprise flashed across Raven's pale features, Ragnaroc smirking as he closed his eyes and let himself begin to drift on the line of unconsciousness. Just before Ragnaroc fell asleep, he heard a sigh of absolute contentment. "Anytime."  
  
                                                                      **Timor's POV**  
     Timor repressed the urge to shiver as the woman brushed past him, having recently learned some of what she was capable of. "Ah, excellent. I see things are about to begin. Thank you for sending for me, Timor."  
     The teen gave her a small, unfortunately fake, smile and nod. "Of course, ma'am. I did tell you I would." He barely managed to keep from twitching as she turned back around, fixing him with cold dark gold eyes. She held his gaze for several minutes, Timor's heart pounding in his chest, before lifting an eyebrow with a smirk and turning back around.   
     "Mm. That's true."   
     Timor sighed silently and followed the woman into the crypt further, wishing he hadn't agreed to lend his younger cousin emotional support through this. For whatever reason, Memoria didn't think her power was any more kind than Timor's, even though he had repeatedly gone through the mass of reasons that it was. He rested a hand on the girl's shoulder, smiling faintly as he noticed for the hundredth time that, when he did so, his hand was so big and she was so small that his pinky finger had to droop off to the side. "Ready, Em?" Memoria glanced up, having been staring sadly at the still grinning and mumbling Crona, her faded pink eyes meeting his with a start. She was only two years younger than him, but was at least a foot shorter... a fact that absolutely drove her up a wall. Memoria was unbelievably petite yet elegant, almost looking more like a giant doll than a small teen. Timor tugged gently on her long silver hair, which had been braided today to keep it from getting into her face and distracting her. "Well?"  
    "Sorry. Yes, I suppose I am." Her voice was its normal weak flutter, the girl giving him a soft, half-hearted smile before returning her attention to the teen strapped to the chair. Memoria raised her hands, hesitating just above Crona's head and chest. Her hands opened and closed nervously, pale silver-gold sparks crackling into life around the digits, the young teen biting her lip and taking a deep breath before lowering her hands the last inch and resting them on the prisoner.   
    Crona's mad grin flickered as Memoria closed her eyes in concentration, then shrank into a pained smirk. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, and several veins bulged in his neck as the teen jerked against the leather straps. But even through this, he never stopped mumbling about saving 'her', an occasional ragged giggle being the only thing to break his seemingly never-ending chant. Timor winced in sympathy, both for Crona and for Memoria as she whimpered softly at the other boy's obvious discomfort, and briefly tightened his grip on his cousin's shoulder - trying to comfort her.   
  
                                                                  **Crona's POV**  
    Crona lay on the beach, looking up at the unnaturally stormy sky and ignoring the heavy rain that was currently doing its best to pound him into the sand, unmoving as icy water lapped further and further up his ankles and then thighs. A loud clap of thunder snarled through the air, Crona flinching as an agonized voice howled; the words intertwining with the dark rumbles.   
    "KID? KID! NOOOOO!"  
    "NO ONE HURTS MY FRIENDS!"  
    "THAT WASN'T COOL AT ALL, CRONA!"  
    "THE HECK?"  
    "C-CRONA... WH-WHY?"  
    "HOW COULD YOU?"  
    "I TRUSTED YOU. I BELIEVED THAT YOU COULD BE STRONGER THAN THIS! HOW COULD YOU BETRAY OUR TRUST?"  
    "I NEVER BELIEVED ANY OF THE PEOPLE BACK AT THE ACADEMY BEFORE, BUT THEY WERE RIGHT. YOU REALLY ARE A MONSTER."  
    "I NEVER SHOULD HAVE TAKEN PITY ON YOU THAT DAY; I SHOULD HAVE JUST LET YOU KILL YOURSELF FROM THE INSIDE OUT."  
    "I WISH YOU WERE DEAD, YOU DEMON!"  
    "MONSTER..."  
    "I ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE DIFFERENT, BETTER THAN YOUR MOTHER. BUT YOU'RE NOT. YOU'RE WORSE."  
     Crona could feel tears trickling down his cheeks, but couldn't find enough strength to wipe them away. Instead, he watched as lightning lit up the sky, revealing split second images of broken, bloody bodies; starting with the black scales of the Little One and eventually ending with the red and black streaked forms of his friends' corpses.  
     "I'm a horrible person." His voice was dead, echoing how he felt. "No, no, I'm not. I'm not a person. I'm a monster."  
     Overhead, the sky darkened further; black clouds rolling slowly through the air with an ominous grumble.   
      "Why am I such a monster? I try so hard to be good." Crona's lips quivered, the teen beginning to sniffle. "Is there just that much evil in me, that I plain out _can't_ be good?" His shoulders began to shake, the boy beginning to bawl. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry!" The waves were up to his waist now, his legs soaked. "I should have never gone to the Academy. I should have stayed with Lady Medusa! At least then, I would have been killed along with her." Rain slapped his face hard and shot down his mouth as he howled out his sorrow. "I'm sorry. I'm pitiful. I was stupid and selfish; I wanted to try the friendship you all offered so badly! I should have known better!"   
     Water lapped at his neck, Crona now feeling the drag and push of the waves as they tried to pull him in, the slender teen putting up no resistance. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Waves tugged him out into the water, Crona feeling the sand slide out from under him. He did nothing to get back on land, just allowing himself to slowly sink into the murky water which soaked into his uniform as he floated along, using the extra weight to drag him down. Water washed over his face as he sank under the waves, Crona ignoring the sharp burning of salt in his eyes and continuing to blankly stare up. As he thoughtlessly breathed in, water flowing into his mouth and nose, Crona noticed several thousand silvery-gold lights twinkle into life in the clouds.   
     He jerked up into a sitting position in the foot-tall water, coughing hard and gasping as he frantically rubbed at his weeping eyes, hurriedly finger combing his uneven bangs over his head so that more salt water wouldn't drip into his poor eyes. Once Crona was able to see without feeling like someone had pouring acid into his eyes, he was startled to see that it had apparently begun to rain again... this time, however, instead of hard pellet-like droplets, it was raining soft drops that shone like the sky was. He tentatively reached out a hand, one of the bright droplets splashing onto his palm. It was warm to the touch compared to the icy water he was currently in, though to his surprise the raindrop turned into a small plume of mist the second it touched his skin. The rain began to fall harder, more and more drops hitting him, Crona frowning in surprised confusion as he was quickly surrounded by fog. The mist grew thicker and heavier until he couldn't see or hear anything, the teen beginning to panic slightly as the fog grew thick enough that it began getting harder and harder to take a fulfilling breath; fine, almost sticky mist covering his tongue, throat and even entering his lungs. Crona staggered to his feet, stumbling back towards the shore as he uselessly tried to wave the air clear. **Maybe this is my mind's punishment for what I did to...** He blinked, pausing momentarily in the ankle deep water before splashing out the last few feet. **What were their names**? Crona grabbed his hair, yanking the short locks hard in distress as he searched his mind for the answer. **M... M...**  
    "Maka!" The word popped out, full of Crona's relief. **It was bad enough, having killed them. If I forget them... that would be the absolute worst thing I could ever do.** "Maka, Kid, Soul, Liz, Patty, Black Star, Tsubaki. Maka, Kid, Soul, Liz, Patty-" He broke off, beginning to cough wetly and gasp, every breath he took adding to the moisture in his lungs. White spots began dancing across his vision, the teen holding his breath as long as he could before gulping in several more wet gasps of sparkling mist. Crona fell to his knees, his head swimming, as each breath brought him less and less oxygen, feeling a small amount of thick water sliding around in his lungs. The mist almost felt good against his sweaty skin even though, ironically enough, it was because there was such a heavy humidity that he was feeling so clammy. Crona lost his balance, tipping forward and slamming face-first into the sand, his vision slowly fading out. As he gagged and choked, his body desperately trying to live, Crona's mind was almost happy; at least his friends would be avenged. He didn't even bother hoping that he would see them once he was dead, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't going to be going to the same place. The only thing that he dared hope was that he would at least be able to remember the only truly happy times in his life, and the people who had given them to him. Crona chanted their names in his head as everything slowly went black, determined to remember them to the bitter end. **Maka... Kid... Soul... Liz... Patty... Black Star... Tsubaki. Maka... Kid... Liz... Patty... Black Star... Tsubaki. Maka... Kid... Liz... Black Star... Tsubaki. Maka... Liz... Black Star... Tsubaki. Maka... Liz... Tsubaki. Maka... Liz. Maka... Maka. Maka. M... M... Maka? No... I don't know anyone named Maka.  I must have been thinking of Lady Medusa; that makes sense. I'm sorry I failed you, Lady Medusa... Mother.  
  
                                                                Timor's POV  
   **  Timor could feel his cousin shaking, her thin shirt soaked with sweat as she concentrated; completely focused on what she was doing. Both he and the woman were respectfully staying silent, and the woman's focus on what was going on was almost as intent as Memoria's. The only sounds that broke the tense quiet was Crona's occasional audible mumble. "I'm sorry..."  
    The teen was, by now, both awed by the other boy's continuous lack of fear for himself and extremely irritated by hearing either the name; 'Maka', or 'I'm sorry. **Does he ever think of anything else? Geez. It's like he's intentionally trying to make me feel as guilty as possible.**  
    Suddenly, the sparks of Memoria's magic that curled around her fingers and were sinking into Crona's head and chest burned blindingly bright, and Timor felt a sharp jolt of fear eminate from Crona. **Finally.** Just as the thought popped into his mind, immediately followed by even more guilt, Crona twisted restlessly in his restraints. "Maka-" **Of course.** "Kid... Soul..." **Well, at least he's branching out a little**. The fear coming from the other boy soon faded, Crona relaxing slightly before another blinding burst of Memoria's power sent him into convulsions again. There was still a hint of fear in the air, but nowhere near the amount that Timor was used to sensing when Memoria worked her  magic on people. "Maka... Liz... Tsubaki..." Timor raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed. **I would not have pegged him as a player**.  "Maka..." **And we're back to her. Wow**. "L-Lady Medusa?"  
    The teen flinched hard, the name bringing to mind several dozen of Crona's earlier fears, his gaze flicking away from Crona to glance at the woman on his other side. Her focus was still intent on Memoria and Crona, her expression calm yet fascinated, not seeming to notice or care about the boy's raggedly gasped words.  
   "I'm sorry, Mother..." Crona bucked against the leather straps one last time before going completely limp, only the barest rise and fall of his chest showing that he was still alive.   
   That did manage to elicit a response from the woman, a small snarl curling her lip as she looked away, a soft sound of disgusted irritation escaping her. "Tsch." She glanced back at Crona, Timor noting the paler gold of her eyes as her expression softened for a few brief seconds before her eyes darkened again and the woman scowled. "I believe I've seen enough." The woman stalked out of the crypt, leaving Timor alone with his cousin. He breathed a soft sigh of relief before returning his attention to the younger girl and the steady flow of silver-gold sparks that still snapped and popped as they streamed into Crona's unnaturally still form.   
  
                                                               **Kid's POV**  
   Kid hadn't really expected to find anything new on their trip, but that didn't make it any less disheartening to have spent the entire day prowling around the area where Spirit had been found - after the severely wounded man had somehow managed to call Lord Death - with nothing new to show for it. The group took a break in a nearby cafe, all ravenous since they hadn't stopped for lunch. "This was a waste of time," Soul complained, the albino slumped back in his chair. "I mean, seriously! How the heck does a grown man collapse practically in the middle of town with life-threatening injuries... and no one freaking notices?"  
    Liz shrugged and toyed absently with her water glass, navy blue eyes not quite focused. "This might be a town with high criminal activity. Places like that find that it's usually a lot smarter to not see anything that could potentially incriminate someone; witnesses tend to disappear and never be found." Kid frowned slightly, worried. Liz rarely talked about the life that she and her little sister had had before Kid had hired them, the Weapon always getting very quiet whenever the subject was even touched on. He placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, tilting his head slightly when she glanced over. Liz smiled crookedly and waved a hand slightly, signaling that she was alright.   
   "Still..." Soul rubbed his hands over his face, looking and sounding exhausted. "It'd be nice to have something to go home with; a hint, a clue... anything. Something to tell us how Spirit got all roughed up, or to tell us if it even had anything to do with those other attacks on DWMA agents, or even just to tell us if Spirit was by himself or with someone."  
    Maka nodded solemnly. "And while we're on the subject of things that we wish that we had that are looking extremely unlikely to happen, I'd like a whole pile of Kishin Egg souls and a Witch soul to pop into existence beside us so you can be turned into a Death Scythe." Everyone was tired enough to chuckle at Maka's weak joke, Kid shaking his head slightly as he did so in amusement.   
    "Hello, and welcome! How are you all doing today?" A perkily cheerful waitress stopped at their table, beginning to hand them each menus. "You look tired. What have you kids been up to?"  
    "Going out on a wild goose chase, it seems." Kid smiled halfheartedly, nodding in thanks as he accepted his menu.  
    "Really? What kind?"  
    Soul picked up the conversation, putting in his two cents. "The kind where we try and find anything about a bloody guy who collapsed a few streets over."  
    The waitress rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging her lips up. "You talked to Cain, didn't you. Poor kids. He's not quite all there." She tapped her temple to illustrate her point. "He was in here a week or two ago, rambling about that. You can't take him too seriously, he probably just imagined the entire thing."  
    The teens shared looks, their exhaustion and hunger forgotten, then returned their attention to the waitress. "Excuse me, Ma'am. Where might we find Cain, do you know?" Kid had to fight to keep his eagerness out of his voice.  
    The woman looked a little surprised at the sudden undivided focus she was receiving, but still nodded. "Sure. I think he hangs out around the bridge, most of the time."  
     "Thank you, Ma'am." The group got to their feet, the poor waitress looking completely confused now, and started out towards the door.   
    "Oh, and would you mind describing him for us?" Maka added, turning back suddenly and making the waitress jump slightly.   
     "Um... About yea high, short brown hair, clean-shaven, brown eyes..." The woman held her hand up about a foot above her own head. "But didn't you already meet him...?"  
     "Thank you!" As the group continued out the door, Kid heard the waitress sigh.  
     "Sure, I guess..."  
     About ten minutes later, they had walked across town to where the bridge stood, and were currently looking for a man who fit the waitress's description of Cain. Kid finally noticed a tall, almost painfully long-limbed man sitting down by the water, one hand tracing patterns in the water. He walked down the short hill and knelt next to the man. "Excuse me, sir. Would you happen to be Cain?"   
     "Yes..." Cain didn't look up, though the shoulder nearer to Kid hunched up. Kid stood and waved the others down before returning to his kneeling position and offering Cain his hand.  
    "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cain. My name is Kid."  
    Cain shook Kid's hand awkwardly with his left hand, the man's right hand still swirling through the water smoothly. "That's even worse of a name than Cain is."   
   Kid blinked, surprised, then smiled. "I suppose it is an odd name. Still, it's the only one I have."  
   Cain nodded, eyes flicking up momentarily. "That's true." The tall man stiffened slightly as Maka, Soul and Liz walked down the hill, his head swiveling around to stare at them all. "Why are you here to talk to me? No one is ever here to talk to me."  
    "We came to see if you could remember anything about the injured man that you had seen around two weeks ago." Kid started as the man abruptly jerked and stumbled, falling over before scrambling to his feet and stumbling several yards away from them, brown eyes wild as he shook.   
    "Who are you? Are you from the hospital again? Or are you with them? I'm not crazy... I didn't imagine that. Stay away from me, please!"  
     Kid exchanged a bewildered look with Maka, the teen gently jerking his chin at her to signal Maka to take the lead. She stepped forward, only to have the man stumble back and almost fall over again. Maka withdrew her foot, green eyes confused. "Please, we just want to know what happened..."  
     "Why?! Why do you want to know? Or... why do you want me to tell you?"  
     "Because the man who was injured is my papa... and the person who was blamed for it was a close friend." Kid nodded, seeing Liz and Soul following suit out of the corners of his eyes. "That friend is missing, and I think that knowing what happened to my papa will help us find him."  
     Cain bit his lip, obviously torn but still very nervous. "How do I know that you're telling the truth?"  
     "You don't. There isn't really any way to prove it, either." Maka's shoulders slumped, the movement so small that Kid wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't looked back at her just as they went down. "But please, believe me."  
     Cain shifted uncomfortably, looked down at the ground and took an almost impossibly long breath, then nodded. "Alright." He rubbed his neck, then sat down and went back to tracing on the water. "What do you want to know?"  
     Kid could see Maka take a deep breath, gathering herself, before she answered. "How did Papa get there? Was there anyone with him? Did you see which direction he came from?"  
    "Your dad was dropped off from a hearse... There was one big teen and two shorter kids that helped him out of the car... They came from that direction." The man pointed north. Kid blinked, surprised at something that Cain had just said, as Maka continued to question the older man.   
     "Could you describe them, please?"  
      The lanky man rubbed the back of his neck, staring distantly into the water. "The big guy was at least six feet tall and he had extremely short light-colored hair. The other two were at least five or six inches shorter, with slightly longer brownish-crimson hair. That was about all I could see from where I was since it was pretty dark at the time."  
     Kid took the opportunity to speak as Cain paused. "Wait, what did you mean, they 'helped him out'?"   
     Cain looked up at him quizzically, brown eyes briefly meeting his before they returned to watching the water again. "He wasn't in the best shape, so they had to help him walk over to a place where there was a mirror."  
     "Do you think that they were the ones who beat him?"  
     Cain looked puzzled. "I don't see what the point would have been, plus they were very careful with him. If anything, I would have guessed that they were friends." Kid nodded slowly, thinking over what had been said.   
     "Do you know exactly where they had come from?" Maka asked, drawing both of their attentions.   
     With a shake of his head, Cain shrugged. "No... Sorry." As all four teens drooped, disappointed, Cain reached into a pocket and pulled out a card. "But I think this fell out the door of their vehicle, it might help you." Since Kid was the closest to the man, he accepted the card and inspected it.   
        
                                                          **Ossibus Mortuary**  
               _When Death comes knocking on your door, come knocking on ours._  
We serve anyone; Witches, Humans, Weapons, Maisters, even Kishin Eggs!    
If a loved one turned into a Kishin Egg or just happens to be a Witch and was killed by a Weapon or Shinigami, don't feel that they shouldn't receive a proper burial just because there aren't any remains to bury. We can create mannequins that look exactly like the deceased, or at least put up a marker with the proper ceremony that their death deserves.   
  
    Kid blinked, never really having considered how the loved ones of Kishin Eggs felt about their deaths. He flipped the card over and found a realistic outline of a skull above an address and opening time. "This is the best lead that we've found so far," he murmured, handing the card to Maka. As Maka quickly skimmed it, Liz reading it over her shoulder, Soul smirked.   
   "You mean our _only_ lead, right?"  
   "Just so. Shall we take a quick detour before we head back to the Academy?" Liz looked up, worry flashing in her eyes.   
    "Shouldn't you wait until Patty's with us and you can use us? Remember, it was only  yesterday that you had your breakdown, and Dr. Stein did say to not use us for at least three days. Right now, only Maka and Soul are the only Maister and Weapon pair we have. Just in case."  
    Soul and Maka nodded in agreement with his Weapon, Maka's nod coming more reluctantly than her partner's, Kid frowning slightly in a mixture of slight irritation and thought, readjusting his brooch before continuing. "How about we compromise? I'll call Professor Stein and ask him to figure out a way to pardon us from school for the next week, and tomorrow I'll ride Beelzebub back to Death City and pick up Patty. Meanwhile, we at least go over and watch this mortuary for awhile." He raised his eyebrows, waiting. Maka was the first to agree, the girl looking relieved, Liz and Soul finally acquiescing in the end as well. "Excellent."As everyone thanked Cain for his help and started back up the hill,  Kid thought of something and turned back. “Could I treat you to supper? After all, as my friend said, you’ve given us our best lead. It’s really the least I could do…”  
      Cain smiled, looking genuinely  comfortable for the first time that evening. “No, but thank you anyway.”  
       “Are you certain?”  
       “Yes, thank you.”  
        Kid nodded and turned again, having to trot to catch up with the others. After they got rooms in a local inn, they all gathered in Kid’s for the call in to Doctor Stein. Kid quickly drew the  appropriate numbers on the mirror, tugging his sleeve cuffs straight as the reflective surface blurred momentarily before clearing to show the  older Maister. Doctor Stein glanced up from a clipboard briefly, before losing interest and returning his focus to his notes. “How is your search going?”  
    “We met a witness.”   
    That caught the scientist’s attention, his gray-green eyes flashing behind thin rimmed glasses. “What?” He set his clipboard down, giving Kid his full attention. “I thought that there were no witnesses.”  
     “Apparently, there was one.” Kid recounted their meeting with the waitress and then their consequent visit with Cain, ending by having Maka show Stein the card.   
     “A mortuary? That’s interesting.” Stein pushed his glasses a bit further up the bridge of his nose, then clicked the screw in his head a few notches tighter. “And I agree with Ms. Thompson; you personally should wait for another day before going anywhere where you might run into danger. Maka and Soul, you two should go investigate as soon as possible.”  
     “But Doctor, I could potentially encounter danger anywhere; a Kishin Egg might even pop out of one of our rooms!” Kid’s protest was earnest, though the young shinigami felt that he was skirting uncomfortably closely with whining.  
      “I hope not,” This came from Soul, the Weapon’s voice full of controlled laughter. “For one thing, it wouldn’t reflect all that well on the housekeepers or maids, and for another thing, it wouldn’t be cool to have to pay for all the damage.”  
      “My point,” Kid shot Soul an icy glare, one finger beginning to tap on his pants pocket in agitation. “- is that we aren’t in Death City at the moment; there isn’t any wall or small army of Maisters and Weapons to discourage Kishin Eggs or even common criminals. I’m just as likely to find a battle strolling around town as I would be going with Maka and Soul to a mortuary!”  
      “Really… I had no idea that you felt that endangered, Kid.” Stein shrugged and picked up his clipboard again, going back to studying it. “If you’re that uneasy there, then I’d advise coming back to the Academy. In fact, I’d almost ask you to; Patty and Black Star have proven repeatedly today that the Academy was fortunately built to last. I’ve tried to deter them, and Tsubaki has been doing her best to slow them down, but…”  
      Kid had started to scowl in irritation at the doctor’s intentional misunderstanding of his meaning, but that expression quickly shifted into a wince at the thought of what all havoc his younger Weapon and his blue haired friend could have (and probably had) gotten into together. “Oh dear.”  
     “Is Patty okay?” Liz asked, stepping up beside Kid to see Stein better. “Actually, no. Is Tsubaki alright?”  
      “All three are fine, though Tsubaki will probably be sore tomorrow.” Stein smirked slightly, his glasses catching the light. “I would not have tried taking Black Star and Patty into the library; while in theory it was a somewhat plausible idea to keep them quiet and still, in actuality it was a rather large disaster.”  
      “Ouch.”   
      “Mm. So, will you be returning to Death City, Kid?”  
      Kid opened his mouth to tell Stein no, but then changed his mind and nodded once. “Yes, I believe I will be. Tomorrow morning, in fact.”  
      Stein blinked and looked up again in surprise, Kid making sure to keep a straight face. “Really?”  
      “Yes. In fact, if you’ll excuse me, doctor, I believe my next call will be to Tsubaki to let her know that she will no longer need to watch Patty after this evening.” Kid nodded politely to the still slightly stunned scientist, Stein absently waving a hand to acknowledge the end of the conversation, before tapping the glass and writing out  another series of numbers.   
      “You could have told him that you were planning on coming straight back, Kid.” While Maka’s voice was reprimanding, Kid could see the hints of amusement on her reflection’s face seconds before it blurred and cleared to reveal a frazzled looking Tsubaki.   
      “Hey, guys…” The raven haired girl waved and smiled weakly, only to disappear as Black Star squished himself in front of her.   
      “It’s about time you called to ask us to come help out!” the buff boy grinned and flexed, fists on his hips. “Betcha haven’t found anything without my awesome ninja expertise, have you?” Kid raised a finger and opened his mouth to tell Black Star and Tsubaki the news, but his friend bowled on.  “That’ll teach you to leave me behind. I still can’t believe you did that! Why would you want to leave a big star like me? But, I guess it worked out anyway. After all, I-” Black Star paused, then corrected himself, “- _we_ , dug out some clues back here at the Academy that should make up for your loss.”  
       Kid waited a second to make certain that Black Star had finished talking, then seized the opportunity. “Actually, we were successful here as well;  we managed to find a witness.”  
       “Whoa… really?”  Kid nodded, amused at the surprise on the shorter boy’s face.   
       “What did you find?” Realizing that he had not seen or heard his younger Weapon, Kid nervously added, “And where is Patty?”  
        A hand gently moved Black Star to the side, enough so that Tsubaki could see in as well. “Patty’s folding one hundred origami giraffes in the other room. Don’t worry, everything’s fine.” The raven-haired girl smiled, then straightened slightly. “And we managed to overhear Spirit confirming that he really has been poisoning Lord Death, thanks to Black Star.” Kid watched in confusion as, while Black Star puffed up his chest in smug pride, Tsubaki’s acknowledging smile turned into a brief, slightly irritated frown. “We also managed to find out that he’s been talking with someone about this, and that he was planning on poisoning you next, Kid.” A small smile tugged her slight frown back into an amused smile. “That reminds me, if Spirit makes you anything to eat that is symmetrical, I wouldn’t eat it.”  
       Kid blinked, then cracked a smile of his own. “Alright. But I can’t promise that I wouldn’t admire it for awhile.” He chuckled into his fist as his friends all laughed quietly around him, though it was more subdued than usual. **Which is probably due to my unfortunate breakdown yesterday.** Kid kept himself from letting his self disgust show on his face, the teen feeling his stomach twist every time he thought of how disgraceful he had acted. And it wasn’t  at the thought of just this last time either, though that had set a heavy weight on his shoulders. Generally his obsessive-compulsive distress wasn’t so much violent as it was embarrassing. Kid was perfectly aware of how many people found him to be a lacking shinigami, and how most saw him in a ridiculous or foolish light. This had been going on since he was a toddler, only when he was younger he refused to go outside of his room for more than a few minutes at a time and wasn’t able to cope with having any reflective surfaces whatsoever around him. It had taken him until the evening before his tenth birthday to realize that he had to try to be his best—not only for himself and for his father, but for the people that he would one day end up protecting.   
      _Kid sat in the middle of his room, carefully building yet another perfect Death family skull out of blocks (there were four others in the corners that he had built), slowly setting a final thin white block on the dead center of the top of the structure before rocking back on his heels and smiling. “Perfect.”  Standing, he tugged the wrinkles out of his t-shirt and shorts before admiring the view of his room from different vantage points… such as the top of his desk, out from underneath his bed, and from in front of his door. “Just… perfect!”  
      That happened to be the moment that the door swung open; hitting Kid’s back and sending him crashing into  the center gray and white block skull, wood blocks going flying. The boy barely registered the quickly-fading ache on his back, rear and the back of his head, instead flinching and uselessly flinging a hand out as he watched the wayward pieces from the middle skull collapse one of the other skulls. _**_No… NO!_** _He slowly rolled over, still in shock, to see the teen standing frozen in his door. She was dressed like his maid and nurse in a plain black dress, her brown hair neatly pinned back, with his dinner tray in her hands. “Sorry, sorry!” The girl quickly set the tray on his desk and hurried over to pick him up and set him on his feet, not noticing as Kid stiffened almost to the point of pain. “I didn’t-”  
     “What is wrong with you?” Kid was shaking, anger and nausea sparring in his mind as he looked around at the mess, his voice soft enough to be nearly inaudible. The girl bit her lip and set a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her.   
     “Hey, don’t cry…”  
       At that, the little boy’s temper snapped entirely. He flung her hand off her shoulder, his gaze burning fiercely as his double toned eyes met her surprised black eyes, taking a step back and wiping his  hand on his shorts. “I’m not. What is wrong with you? Did you not see what you did? You aren’t even supposed to be in my room in the first place, whoever you are.”  
      The girl frowned briefly, anger flashing across her face before she visibly smoothed out her expression. “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. My name is Lauren. Mable had to go home early today for a family emergency, so I got asked in to cover for her tonight. I’m sorry about your… blocks.” She glanced down at her watch, Kid looking away quickly as  he caught a glimpse of her reflection on the small glass cover. “And according to the schedule that Mable wrote up, I’m supposed to bring in your supper at eight. It’s eight.”  
       Kid sneered, disgusted at the older girl’s ignorance. “It isn’t eight. It’s seven fifty-two! Plus, you’re supposed to knock before you come in.” He waved a hand at her wrist. “And you definitely aren’t supposed to bring anything reflective in here. Didn’t Mable tell you anything? Or do things come in one ear and out the other, since there doesn’t seem to be anything between them?”  
       Lauren’s eye twitched, the girl’s smile forced now. “Sorry. My bad. Oh well, I guess supper’s early today.” She chuckled and fidgeted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Anything else you need, or are you good for now?”  
       “Just get out of my room before you do any more damage.” Kid turned, every inch of him dismissing her, as he began the painstaking ordeal of picking out the specific pieces for each skull and reassembling them in their proper place. He heard a short, disbelieving huff, then the sound of the girl walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. By the time that he had gotten the two skulls back in shape, it was seven fifty nine. Kid sat down at his desk, scoffing as he noticed the sloppy quarter cut running across his sandwich and grimacing at the generous portion of salad beside it. “Honestly, where did Dad get her?” After a few quick adjustments, Kid glanced up at the paper clock on his wall and waited.   
     At exactly eight minutes after eight , he picked up a quarter of his sandwich and began to eat. Kid’s eyes widened in surprise, the young boy surprised by how good his food tasted. Mable had been the cook for the last few years, and every meal she had_ _brought Kid had been steadily blander and nastier until the boy had just gotten used to bad food. In comparison, this was good enough that  even the salad—Kid hated salad, and only ate it to placate his dad—wasn’t all that bad._ ** _Huh… maybe I should talk to Dad about making her the new cook._** _  
When he had finished eating, Kid set about the task of carefully setting the blocks back into their box. It always was a long job, seeing as the two hundred small blocks would only fit into their box if they were set in in a specific order, but Kid was able to get it done twice as fast as any servant he had ever asked. About halfway through, Lauren came back in to collect the now empty tray. Kid glanced up, still not quite over the earlier incident but wanting to acknowledge the meal. “You’re a good cook.”  
      Lauren turned, the girl almost having made it out of the door when he had spoken. “What?”  
      “I said, you’re a good cook.” Kid spoke in a mumble, the boy already feeling his face flush from saying anything in the first place.   
      “If that was your way of saying ‘thanks for the meal’, then you’re welcome.”   
       Kid scoffed, now knowing that his face was red. That’s what I get from trying to compliment a servant. “Get out.”  
        The girl didn’t move, her expression darkening slightly. “Since I’m only going to be here another half hour, I may as well use the time wisely. Kid, you are the biggest pain in the ass kid I’ve ever babysat, and I’ve only had to deal with you up close and personal for about five minutes!”  
         Kid gaped at her, shell shocked. No one spoke to him like that, ever. _**_Wait, babysit?!_** _“What gives you-”_  
_She cut him off impatiently. “You’ve got nothing in common with your dad, other than your blood. He’s freaking Lord Death, someone who protects the city and who has time to make anyone who talks to him feel better about life in general, while you’re just a whiny, ill-mannered baby who still plays with blocks and expects the world to shake and shiver at your feet!” Kid opened his mouth to yell at her, but all that came out was a indignant squeak. “I’ve had friends come over and work here for a few days, and I always heard how great Lord Death was, and what a nightmare you were. I thought they were just exaggerating when they told me stories about you and your friggin’ attitude, but they were spot on. I’m just glad I don’t have to stay around here long enough to hear you rant about symmetry, or have a tantrum because something isn't just so for your majesty.” Lauren gave him a look of pure pitying disgust. “I mean, seriously! You go around telling people what’s wrong with them, but have you ever turned those eagle eyes back on yourself? I doubt it. I really, really doubt it.” With that, she turned to go, leaving a few last words behind. “Manners matter, kid. I feel sorry for the city when you get older if you don’t learn that soon.”  
       He stared at the closed door for a few frozen moments before losing his temper. “HOW DARE YOU?!” Reaching for something, anything, Kid grabbed several of his blocks and let fly; each hitting his door with more than enough force to leave dents in the wood. He continued his useless assault until he didn’t have any more blocks to throw, instead moving on to release his still boiling anger on the rest of his room. Kid ripped and tore his bed apart, sheet, blanket and pillows going in different directions, before sweeping everything off the top of his desk. The loud clatter as pencils and pens hit the floor calmed him down, the boy quickly putting a hand over his eyes and carefully making his way to his door. He waited until he had gone out into the hall and closed the door behind him before opening his eyes again; not wanting to trigger a panic attack at the state of his room. Kid had done this enough—letting his anger at a misbehaving servant out on his room, then making them clean it back up to punish them—that he was able to keep his OCD in check with the comforting thought that it would be clean again soon, and that he wouldn’t have to look at how disgusting his room was until it was clean. “Now, to find dear Lauren…”  
     Kid walked through the hall, smirking as he imagined the look on the stupid servant’s face when she had to go clean his room after yelling at him, soaking in the symmetry of the clean corridor. Lord Death tried to keep certain sections of the mansion symmetrical for the few times that Kid ventured out of his room, in the hopes that he would come out more often. It didn’t work, Kid preferring to be safe rather than sorry, but, on the rare times that Kid did explore, the precaution kept him from breaking down.    
      He heard voices in the living room, and headed in that direction; figuring that Lauren had stopped to have a chat with his dad since she was such a fan. However, as he peeked through the door, Kid saw to his disappointment that his dad was just talking with one of his Death Scythes -Kid had been finagled into memorizing their faces one year, even though he had no interest in the haughty Weapons and didn’t bother remembering their names—through a mirror. “-aka doing?”  
      The red-headed man smiled, though Kid could see sadness there. “She’s furious with me. Won’t even look at me… Not that I can blame her, but it’s going to make Kami’s trip even harder on her. The timing sucked there; I’ve talked to Kami –that was a load of fun– and she’s positive her trip can’t be delayed… and that Maka can’t come. The poor girl’s going to be crushed.”  
       “If there’s anything I can do, Spirit, just ask.” Lord Death’s voice didn’t have its normal bounce, the shinigami sounding genuinely sad. Kid raised an eyebrow, shocked. His dad generally seemed like he couldn’t stop the joy from bubbling out of him, which was one of the reasons so many people liked him so much and so quickly; genuine happiness was infectious. Kid was __  
__about the only person to not be drawn in; he found his dad’s unending chipper attitude extremely irritating, especially considering how much effort it took Kid to get himself into a good mood, and generally couldn’t stand being around him much.  
        “Thank you, sir….” Spirit’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, the Weapon clearly lost in thought, before snapping out of it and returning his attention to Lord Death. “How is Kid doing? Tomorrow’s his tenth birthday, right? He getting any closer to being ready to start learning to be your heir?”  
         _**_Wait, what?_** _  
Lord Death sighed heavily, his broad shoulders drooping momentarily. “Kid’s doing about the same as usual. I’m truly worried about the severity of his OCD; Doctor Stein had assured me that he would probably grow more and more tolerant over the years, but as far as I can tell he’s only gotten worse. He still isn’t able to leave his room for more than a few minutes at a time.” The shinigami rubbed his  forehead through his mask, looking extremely weary. “I’m terrified that one day a Kishin Egg will break in while I’m out protecting Death City or keeping an eye on the students at the Academy, and my kiddo won’t be able to protect himself or even run away without having an OCD attack.” A faint grimace and sigh colored his next words. “And even if a Kishin  Egg never came in, I’m still scared one of the servants will poison Kid or smother him while he’s asleep; my boy just doesn’t get along with anyone. Not even me.”  
         “Sir, you need to be more strict; use discipline!”  
          Lord Death laughed, sounding slightly more cheerful. “You mean like you do?”  
          “That’s… different… I’ve got a little girl; you’ve got a boy. He can take a little punishment. It’ll do him good!”   
          “I don’t have it in me, and I know it.” Kid stared silently as his dad shrugged, relieved, a feeling of hurt spreading through him at each negative comment about him. “I’m just going to have to try and figure out another way to coax my little kiddo out of his room. If I can do that, then I might be able to smooth down his words.”  
          “I hope you can do it soon.” Spirit hesitated, then continued gently, “I know you don’t want to think about it, I know I don’t, but one day, you might not make it out of a fight. You barely scraped through that ambush last week. If you died, then Kid would be the only shinigami around to take charge of Death City. Think of how Death City would fare with a Lord Death who  couldn’t go out and fight Kishin or Kishin Eggs, one who couldn’t get along with other people, one who couldn’t even defend himself against a human!”  
         “I know.” Kid flinched hard at how old his dad sounded, how heart-breakingly frail. “I… I know. I worry about that too, every night.”  
        Kid shoved himself away from the door where he had been eavesdropping, stumbling back to his room.  _**_I’m supposed to be the next Lord Death? That… That’s impossible._** _He had never even considered the possibility, having assumed that his dad would just be around forever, or that Lord Death would be able to pick a successor who wasn’t… so… broken.  Kid had always heard the soft sounds of scorn, however small or unintentional, whenever he had an OCD attack. He stayed in his room to keep himself safe, sure, but he also just wanted to not embarrass his dad by constantly reminding him of what a mess he was.  
      He opened his door, only to remember another mess… one that had completely slipped his mind until now. Kid’s eye twitched, and he swayed on his feet for several silent seconds before collapsing.  Even as he writhed, moaning in mental agony, his mind was split between screeching in distress over the horror of his room and snarling at him over how pathetic he was. His fingers dug into his scalp, tearing at the skin and hair there. _**_Look at what you did. LOOK AT IT! Lauren was right; you really are a baby. You had a tantrum, and look where that got you; you’re rolling around on the floor, unable to do anything but whine._** _“Stop…” Kid hissed and dug his fingernails in deeper, trying to get rid of the harsh headache that was slamming into his brain over and over and the cold voice that sounded so much like Lauren’s that had decided to taunt him._ ** _Isn’t this fun? Aren’t you happy? Look over there at all those pens and pencils on the floor; you did that. Isn’t it beautiful?_** _“Hideous…” Kid choked out the word, feeling his heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to escape._ ** _How about your bed? Everything looks so much better on the floor, doesn’t it? Spite and misplaced anger are awesome!_** _“Disgusting… Everything…”_ ** _And all those blocks. You were so mad at Lauren for accidentally spilling two of them over earlier, but you were so much better! They must all have just flung themselves everywhere, right?_** _“Make it stop, please… Stop… Please!” Kid was begging the air, hearing that same voice laugh in his mind._ ** _Oh, wow. Now you’re going to be polite? Timing… it’s everything. There’s no one here to hear you, Kid, just the way you like it. After all, you don’t want to be around your dad, because seeing him reminds you of just exactly how broken you are in comparison. Who in their right mind would even dream of you ever being a decent replacement for him? You treat the servants like dirt to get rid of the stress that you pile up from being alone all the time, and then you’re surprised when they start treating you like dirt right back. No one knows that you’re killing yourself in here…_** _Kid was surprised to find that it was true, he had gotten up onto his knees and had begun to slam his head against his bed frame hard at some point... and that he couldn’t muster up enough self control to stop himself._ ** _And no one will care. Well, your dad might,  but he’ll get over it pretty quick.  Why shouldn’t he? After all, you heard them a moment ago; you’re basically worthless. At least this way, Dad won’t have to feel bad since it wasn’t his fault you died—it’s no one’s fault but your own._** _  
Kid heard but didn’t process the exasperated, “Geez. Vindictive little brat, aren’t you? Just had to make sure that I had to stay late,” from down the hall, followed after a second by a horrified gasp and hurried footsteps. Two hands restrained him, stopping his body’s attempt to beat his own brains in, pulling him up and propping him against the wall. Lauren’s concerned brown eyes studied him for a moment, listening to his uncontrollable constant mutterings, before she sighed and got up. The teen quickly shoved her sleeves up and began cleaning, putting his room back into order one piece at a time.  
     _**_Why…?_** _Kid shuddered, fingers twitching, as the heavy cloud of OCD-born despair that had paralyzed him eased slightly. “Disgusting…” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a bitter smile. “I’m disgusting…”_ ** _Why would she…?_** _  
Lauren had some problems with the blocks, but eventually just piled them up in the box and shoved the overstuffed bin out into the hall. “Better?” She looked down at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting.  
       Kid took several deep, shuddering breaths before slowly attempting to get to his feet, swaying hard once he had. He carefully walked around his room, one stabilizing hand on his wall, nudging slightly or smoothing down everything that Lauren had put away. It wasn’t that she hadn’t done a good job; she had actually done well, better than most of the servants did, it just wasn’t quite to Kid’s standards. Close, but not there. Once he had finished tugging out the last wrinkle in his blanket, Kid collapsed in his chair. Normally at this point, Kid would have just finished coming in from out in the hall where he would have stayed until it was somewhat safer for him in his room, where he would then have finished fixing everything… pointing out every slight imperfection to whomever had been unfortunate enough to have had to clean his room after a tantrum, then throwing them back out of his room with a sharp command. This time, however, Kid was still trying to pull himself together after a mix of an OCD and extreme guilt attack had shredded his concentration and most of his mental faculties. Plus, several things that he had heard recently were echoing through his head. _**_‘He getting any closer to being ready to start learning to be your heir?’ ‘Kid’s doing about the same.’ ‘You go around telling people what’s wrong with them, but have you ever turned those eagle eyes back on yourself?’ ‘My boy just doesn't get along with anyone… not even me.’ ‘Think of how Death City would fare with a Lord Death who couldn’t get along with other people!’ ‘I feel sorry for the city when you get older.’ ‘I know… I think about that too, every night.’ ‘You’ve got nothing in common with your dad, other than your blood. He’s freaking Lord Death, someone who protects the city and who has time to make anyone who talks to him feel better about life in general!’  ‘Manners matter, kid.’_** _  
“Th-thank you, Lauren…”  
     “Sure, kid.” Lauren left soon after that, after making sure that Kid didn’t have a concussion. When she had left, Kid walked into his closet and took out his laptop, something that he rarely braved since the screen was reflective. However, he felt that this time, it was worth the risk. After getting onto the mansion’s internet, he typed ‘_ _manners / courtesy_ _’ into the search engine. After a moment’s thought, he added ‘_ _gentleman_ _’ to the search, and hit enter.  
  
                                                                           The next morning…  
  
      Kid got up at eight minutes to eight, same as usual, and quickly made his bed. He knew his da– father -_ ** _Father is the more polite term_** _—tended to have breakfast at half past, so Kid had a bit of time on his hands. Then again, it was his birthday… so Lord Death might try and surprise him.  
      Kid half smiled, amused at the idea. _**_It would be ironic if Father surprised me on the day I try to surprise him…_** _  
He went over to his wardrobe, opening the doors. Generally, he just wore shorts and a t-shirt, since the less fabric there was, the less area there was to wrinkle, stain or rip asymmetrically. However, today Kid pushed his normal wardrobe aside to reveal an almost brand new black suit that Lord Death had insisted he wear the last time that the adult shinigami had played the host during a short meeting between himself and the queen of the witches. The meeting hadn’t lasted long, but Kid could easily remember how uncomfortable the suit had felt, and exactly how relieved he had been to get it off. Kid sighed silently and pulled the suit out before beginning to change clothes. It was just as uncomfortable as he remembered... especially the brooch; the top of the comical skull pressed up against the soft skin under his chin when he looked down.  
     Kid sighed again, smoothing down the black fabric and turning to face his door. He had his hand on his doorknob and had just started to turn it when the door flew open… Kid barely jumping out of the way in time to avoid getting whacked by it for the second time in as many days. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIDDO!” Lord Death walked in in a manner that, if you didn’t know better, could easily be taken as bouncing. The huge man blinked and tilted his head, looking around the room, Kid having ended up trapped behind the door. “Kid?”  
      Kid bit back his normal instinct to howl at his dad—_ ** _Father! Man, this is really hard_** _…- instead merely coughing politely. “Excuse me, Father? Would you mind closing the door, please?”_  
      A large white gloved hand closed around the side of the door, swinging it open slightly. “Oh, there you are, kiddo! Sorry about that.” The same hand swept over and ruffled Kid’s hair affectionately, something that they both knew drove the boy up a wall, before abruptly withdrawing. “Oops, sorry.”  
     Kid closed his eyes briefly, containing his temper, before pulling a comb out of his jacket pocket and fixing the damage. “It’s nothing.”   
      Lord Death blinked, looking surprised, then shrugged slightly and grinned. “So, what would you like to do for your birthday, Kid? After all, it’s not every day you add another digit to your age; you won’t be able to do that again for another ninety years!”  
       Kid barely had to think about it, since it was something that he had already been hoping to do. “I would like to start training with you, Father.”  
       Over the next three years, he had slowly struggled to not only manage and occasionally subdue his OCD, but he had also eventually; ingrained courtesy into his common habits, trained and worked out until he was at his fighting prime, read up on almost every subject that he could think of, gotten used to meeting and working with other people, and gotten used to wearing suits. Interestingly enough, while each of those tasks had taken an enormous amount of time and effort to accomplish, getting used to wearing suits was the second hardest goal to meet. The hardest, obviously, was managing his OCD; it was hard enough that he was still trying and failing to accomplish it seven years later.         
       Things had changed again once Lord Death had deemed him fit to find and start working with his own personal Weapon, and he had found Liz and Patty. They were absolutely perfect for him, his first friends, though they ended up changing him again—softening his blunt edges.  
       Kid smiled slightly at the thought, then blinked as Black Star continued on with the conversation. “Anyway, we weren’t able to we weren’t able to see what the person that Spirit was talking to or where they were, though it’s somewhere that Spirit has apparently been once. The person that he was talking to was surprised when he heard that Spirit didn’t remember where it was…”  
       “Don’t forget that the guy has Crona..!” Kid heard the faint sound of Patty’s yell from the other room,  stiffening at her words. He heard a small gasp from Maka behind him, while Liz and Soul both yelped.   
       “What?!”  
        Tsubaki paled. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about that!”  
         “Yeah… It’s been busy here.” Even Black Star looked apologetic, at least momentarily. “So, Crona’s with the mystery dude, being talked into something. Spirit seemed pretty fine with it, and he apparently was talked into the same thing… whatever it is, he said that Crona’d probably get with the program pretty soon.”  
         Kid frowned, not liking the sound of that. “Papa got talked into something, and now he’s trying to kill Lord Death and Kid. I don’t think it’s a stretch to connect the dots there.” He glanced back, absently wondering if Maka’s Grigori soul gave her the ability to read minds as well as see souls, since that was almost exactly what he had been thinking. “It’s not a good thing if Crona’s being convinced to do the same thing; if he acts in any way against the Academy, it’s going to get a lot harder to get Lord Death to hold off on his capture warrant.”   
         “Mm.” Kid nodded in agreement. “Also, from all of what we’ve heard..” He paused his train of thought briefly to explain what they had found on their end that day before continuing. “In any case, from what I can best figure after comparing what we’ve both heard, it sounds like Spirit’s attack was either staged and is therefore unrelated to the previous attacks on Father’s agents, or else these people that he’s gotten involved with managed to intervene on his behalf. After all, I can’t see any connections between the original attacks—which were obviously performed on the spot, and which were always fatal– and Spirit’s attack—which was apparently performed in some other area-” Kid cut himself off, frowning. “I don’t understand how none of us noticed that. Not even the agents who came to rush Spirit back to the Academy noticed that the attack hadn’t happened here, and it was rather obvious… now that I’m thinking about it.”  
       “I think it worked a lot like how us ninjas manage to stay nearly invisible; people tend to see what they expect to see. If you expect to see an empty room, you’ll see an empty room. If you expect to see a site where a friend’s dad got beaten, you’ll see a site where a friend’s dad got beaten.  Lord Death sent us off with that expectation, and since there were several other cases where that had happened and since he’s Lord Death—how often is he wrong?- we didn’t have any reason to see anything different. So… we didn’t.” Black Star finished his short speech, Kid rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he saw a rare glimpse of Black Star when he wasn’t focused on himself. Black Star was a powerful assassin to be reckoned with, even if you didn’t count in his Star blood, one of the only three Maisters in the Academy that Kid would consider a decent opponent… at least, he was when his sole focus wasn’t on showing off.    
        “That makes sense.” Soul smirked, the slight glint of sharp teeth cold. “It sucks, but it makes sense. And then, after Spirit woke up, he confirmed that his attack was here in the city, which cemented the idea in our brains.”  
         “So, who are these people that Spirit are messing around with? Why do they want Crona and Ragnaroc?” Liz spoke up beside Kid, putting the newest questions that were in everyone’s heads out in the air. “And why was Spirit tortured? None of this makes any sense.”  
          “We’ll find some of our answers at this mortuary, I know it.” Maka’s voice was hard, Kid turning to see one of the coldest pairs of green eyes that he’d ever seen glaring at the card on the table. “And we’ll hopefully find Crona, too.” Kid couldn’t help swallowing slightly as her gloved hands tightened into tense fists, even though –despite the fact that Maka was another of the three Maisters in the Academy that Kid considered the strongest– he knew in his mind that she wasn’t a true threat to him. “If these people did anything to him…”  The girl’s words dropped off,  the  ice in her eyes leaving no doubt that anyone who hurt their friend would pay dearly for it.    
          “Indeed.” Kid straightened his collar absently, mind flashing through possible strategies. “That reminds me… I plan on coming back tomorrow to retrieve Patty-”  
          “-and us, right? You’re not going to leave us behind again, are you? Not when you’ve got something big like that?” Black Star interrupted, the teen excited enough to actually pull the mirror off of his wall and start shaking it. Kid blinked, the unnatural movement  of their images making him feel slightly ill.   
        “It would actually be greatly appreciated if you would join us, since I am not apparently going to be allowed to fight until tomorrow evening.” Kid sighed slightly in a mix of amusement and irritation, touched that his friends cared enough to insist… but still annoyed that he wouldn’t be able to help much.   
        “AWESOME!” Black Star’s exuberant howl left everyone a little on the deaf side, the images in the mirror spinning wildly for a few seconds before zooming in to the blue haired teen’s living room floor and abruptly blurring. Kid blinked in surprise at his reflection, fingers twitching as his eyes were drawn to his hair, before the teen turned away and hurriedly began doing his eight times table in his mind to stay calm.   
        **Eight times one is eight… eight times two is sixteen… eight times three is twenty four… eight times four is thirty two…** “I bet Black Star dropped their mirror.” Soul chuckled, Kid hearing the Weapon walk across the room and plop down on Kid’s bed with an amused huff. He glanced up in time to see his other friends slowly scatter around his room; Maka leaned up against the door, while Liz took a seat in one of the room’s two chairs.   
         Kid and Maka nodded, Liz shaking her head in amusement, Kid absently playing with his brooch. “You can ask him tomorrow, Soul.”   
        “Yes, tomorrow.” Kid straightened, already eager for the next day to arrive. “Tomorrow will be most informative…”             
     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {smiles crookedly}  
> This should be fun...
> 
> As always, please comment, review, request or criticize.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it..!


	18. Nightmares and Ragnaroc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...  
> Timor speaks at a funeral,  
> Maka takes a nap when she really shouldn't,  
> Memoria tries to talk Ragnaroc into doing her a favor,  
> And Ragnaroc makes a brief appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {grimaces slightly and chuckles sheepishly}  
> Wow...  
> It's been a while.   
> Sorry about that; I've been meaning to work on this story, but life is spastic and very unpredictable. Even this week, I've only been able to grab about an hour a day to work on this (I'm so very glad that I wrote out an outline for this chapter back when I started on it months ago).  
> Be forewarned, the POVs in this chapter skip around a lot and most came out pretty short... but there wasn't really much of a way for me to get all of the necessary information out otherwise.   
> In any case, you have my sincerest apologies for the long wait, and my thanks for sticking with me! I hope you enjoy the chapter...!  
> I don't own Soul Eater, which is fortunate for all the fans; I work very slowly... {smiles crookedly}

                                                                              **Chapter Eighteen**  
                                                                                  **Timor’s POV**  
      Timor growled and swiped irritably at his alarm clock, groaning as he rolled out of his bed. He had stayed up with Memoria until practically four in the morning, which is how long it had taken her to hit the point of utter exhaustion. Timor had had to basically carry his baby cousin to her bed, which wasn’t anywhere near as hard as it should have been. Uncle’s been pushing her way too far lately… Especially with him– with Crona.  It was true. And even now, after almost eleven straight hours of effort, her work still wasn’t done with him yet. The teen groaned and quickly stumbled out of his room as he remembered that Memoria was supposed to get going again as soon as she woke up… and that she generally set her alarm clock ten minutes later than his. Timor silently snuck—or at least as silently as a large, muscle heavy teen could sneak– into his cousin’s room, tugging the cord to her alarm clock out of the wall a mere two minutes before it would have sounded, before sneaking back out and quietly closing the door behind him.   
      Getting back to his room, he plopped back down onto his bed and set his alarm to allow him another four hours of sleep; hopefully giving him a total of seven hours of sleep. Using the powers that they had was exhausting enough without losing sleep on top of everything.   
  
                                                                          **Four Hours Later…**  
      Timor groaned, the sound quickly shifting into a growl as he slammed a fist down on the ‘off’ button on his alarm for the second time that day, blearily opening his eyes and sighing as he registered the fact that he was still tired. Unfortunately, he was supposed to be at work by noon, so if he wanted to have anything to eat he had to get up now. Timor leaned up against the door of his wardrobe as he blankly stared through his clothes, before blinking as his eyes fell on one particular outfit and cursing loudly as alarm woke him up the last bit. “Oh, man! I’m supposed to do the service today… SHIT!”   
       He grabbed the suit out of the wardrobe, slamming the door shut, before darting over to the bathroom and taking one of the most hurried showers that he had ever done, though it still took twenty minutes. With that done, he quickly threw on his suit and gulped down a bowl of cereal before running out the door. Timor made it all the way to the end of the road before he remembered the fact that he had forgotten his book of passages, the teen growling out a few more choice curses as he hurried back and snatched it off the table in his room before heading out again. It took the rest of the eleventh hour to get to the building, though an odd feeling of being watched made Timor pause briefly outside the doors and look around. What in the world..? He looked around once more, then glanced down at his watch and paled. **DAMN IT, I’M REALLY PUSHING IT!** Timor immediately forgot the unnerving sensation, his unease being replaced with panic as he trotted into the shop, his footsteps clattering against the hard granite floor, until he finally made it to his destination.   
      “Hello, Mr. Gusteg.” He smiled, making sure that his expression had the appropriate amount of sadness tinging it. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”   
       “Thank you…”  
        Timor looked around the room at the few people assembled there, breathing a silent sigh of relief that at least he wasn’t holding things up. “Should we wait for another ten minutes before starting the service, sir?”  
        “Yes, thank you.”   
  
  
                                                                                 **Soul’s POV**  
     Soul let his head tip back to thud against the trunk of the tree he was leaning against, the Weapon feeling his sweat slowly diluting the sun block he had had to put on earlier. **Great. Now I’m gonna have to put more of that gunk on. That’s just perfect!** He glared up at the sun, wincing at the bright light even through his sunglasses, the overheated teen feeling like its never ending chuckles were aimed at him. **Being an albino in the middle of desert country sucks, but at least I was generally in class during the daytime. Here, we’re having to run around out directly under the sun… in the middle of summer. Freakin’ feels like hell…** He grimaced and tugged at the front of his soaked t-shirt, trying to get some air circulating. The long sleeved shirt he was wearing in place of his normal jacket wasn’t helping him cool down, but it was better than peeling red skin off his arms for the next week after he got a major sunburn under this constant exposure to sun.   
      A gloved hand on his shoulder brought him out of his mental griping. “Are you doing alright, Soul?” Soul pulled on a smirk, shooting his partner a thumbs up.  Even though he could see that she wasn’t any cooler than he was, Maka was still stubbornly wearing her normal uniform… though her tie was looser than usual, allowing her collar to droop away from her skin instead of being tightly pressed against it.  
     “Yeah, I’m just hot. It’s definitely not cool here…” he joked, winking at Maka. Soul was gratified to see her smile, green eyes rolling at how dumb his joke had been. “So, you wanna remind me why Black Star and Tsubaki aren’t hanging out here with us?” He looked around, frowning as he realized that he hadn’t seen them for the last ten minutes or so.  
      “Black Star snuck off without telling anyone about fifteen minutes ago, and Tsubaki went to go and try to drag him back before he did something like running inside,” Maka gestured in the direction of the mortuary absently, “- and yelling at the people in there to give Crona back to his god.” Soul’s smirk grew slightly, the teen reflecting that that sounded exactly like something that his friend would do. It was crazy, it was impulsive, it was reckless, it was stupid… and it was well meant and brave; all the ingredients that made Black Star so much fun to hang out with. “If it weren’t for the fact that he probably would have followed us and done something even worse, I would have tried and talked him into staying back at the hotel with Kid, Liz and Patty.” Maka rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking tired.  He couldn’t blame her; she had been having bad nightmares (he guessed, anyway. All he knew was that Maka would wake up screaming several times each night, then pace around her room for about a half hour before her room went quiet. The next morning, she would look like she had gotten punched in both eyes before being thrown into a hurricane, but would refuse to talk about it, no matter how long he tried to finagle an answer out of her.) every night for the last few months, and she hadn’t slept at all last night—according to Tsubaki and Liz, her roommates for the evening. She had stayed up reading instead, which was probably why Maka was so prickly today. “Honestly, why he has such a hard time sitting still and being quiet is a mystery to me…”  
      Soul was silently relieved that they were talking now; they had been watching the mortuary for the last three hours in almost complete silence from the park across the street ever since Kid had gotten back from Death City at ten with Patty, Black Star and Tsubaki. It turned out, the mortuary had only been a town and a half away from where they had been. Soul had to admit, he had started to get unnerved by the still silence as well by then. The most exciting thing that had happened during that time was when some teen seemed to notice someone watching him, the boy looking directly at them for a few seconds before he hurried inside. And if Soul was starting to get twitchy, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Black Star, an extremely hyper exercise addict, had reached his breaking point. However, while he could explain this to Maka—and she would understand in her mind, in fact she had probably already figured it out but was just stress complaining– all it would do would be to rub the already irritable Maister even further the wrong way as her stubbornness reared its head and fought with her common sense over either admitting he had a valid point or yelling at him for taking Black Star’s side when the blue-haired teen had gone off and done something stupid and put everything they were doing in possible jeopardy. So, he decided to be smart and quickly changed the subject. “Are you planning on us going inside at any point, or do you just want to see who else goes inside?”   
       Maka wiped her forehead, a large smudge darkening the crisp white fabric of her gloves from her sweat. “I don’t know yet.” She narrowed her eyes, then closed them entirely. Soul felt her warm Grigori soul briefly brush against his own, feeling as soft as feathers, before the sensation disappeared. He guessed that she was using her soul wavelength to try and see who was inside the shop, the teen staying quiet to keep from distracting her. After a moment, she reopened her eyes and sighed, Soul detecting a definite air of irritation from her. “Nothing out of the ordinary… again.”   
       “Isn’t that a good thing?”  
       “I guess… but I’ve had this feeling that there’s something very strange about that building or something or someone inside it since we got here earlier.” Maka bit her lip, giving the mortuary a long look. “I’d feel better if I had a reason for feeling this way.”  
        “Of course you feel weird about it!” Soul jumped slightly as Black Star walked out from behind him, while Maka barely glanced over. “It’s a place with a lot of dead bodies inside! Even a star like me doesn’t like being in there!”  
        Soul gulped as Maka stiffened and slowly turned around, a sharp glint in her eyes. “You went inside?”  
         “Yeah!” Black Star seemed oblivious to Soul and Tsubaki’s silently frantic gestures to be quiet, instead grinning widely and continuing. “I figured that I’d check the place out, see if Crona was hiding in one of the coffins or something. He wasn’t, and most of the coffins in there were empty.  Oh, yeah, one of the weirder things in there was when I saw some kids putting makeup on a corpse!” He grimaced and shuddered, sticking out his tongue to express his disgust. “Why would you do that? Anyway, like the astounding assassin I am, I snuck into the back room and saw some giant guy cutting into another corpse!” Soul raised an eyebrow, surprised. Black Star actually looked unnerved, which was pretty hard to do.  **I guess he’s squeamish? Huh.  Who knew?** “Aren’t morticians just supposed to stick bodies in coffins and  bury them?”   
        Maka smiled sweetly, Soul freezing as he  saw the overly kind expression.  While she did have a genuinely kind normal smile, there was a big difference between it and the one she was wearing now.  Her normal smiles didn’t have so many teeth showing, for one. **Oh, shit. Poor Black Star, she’s ticked…** “Well, if you hadn’t gone in, you wouldn’t have seen any of that, would you?” Her smile widened slightly, looking less and less like a smile and more like she was just baring her teeth.  “I don’t suppose anyone saw you before you came back out, did they?”  
         **Please say no… Please?** Soul looked over at Tsubaki, guessing what the answer was going to be from her wince.   
          “Yeah, actually. The huge guy cutting into the body turned and saw me, then had me get out of the room since only the staff were supposed to be in that room.” Black Star barely finished before he was whacked with a hard Maka-chop, the teen howling at the blow. “OW! HEY! What was that for?!”  
          “THERE _IS_ A REASON THAT WE DIDN’T MARCH IN THERE FIRST THING WHEN WE GOT HERE!” Soul silently whistled.  **Holy cow… Maka really _is_ mad; she doesn’t usually yell. **The girl closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, gloved hands opening and closing. When she spoke again, her voice was calm once more, though Soul could still see signs of anger in her posture. “No matter who these people are, they’ve talked with Papa about killing Lord Death; which makes them enemies of the DWMA. Seeing as they actually came into the Academy itself to kidnap Crona and Ragnaroc, and have also talked with Spirit about killing Kid, there is a possibility that they know who we are and what we look like, since we are generally around Crona and Kid whenever they aren’t on missions. If they did have Crona here, or anywhere nearby—they don’t, I’ve been checking for his soul every half hour, but still– and they saw us, then they might move him somewhere that would be even harder to find. As it is, they could always just leave and disappear, seeing as we have no clue what they look like beyond a vague impression that someone else saw at night!”  
        “Sorry.”  Black Star stared at the ground, actually looking ashamed for once. That only held for another few seconds before the teen shuddered and mumbled, “Why would you slather a corpse with makeup? That just seems stupid…” Maka growled darkly and Maka-chopped her friend again, this time hitting him hard enough to knock him out. After shaking her head and neatly tucking her book back somewhere inside her jacket, she turned to Tsubaki while Soul propped their fallen comrade up against the tree trunk beside him.   
        “Did you go inside as well?”  
         Tsubaki nodded, looking sheepish. “Yes, I’m sorry…”  
         Maka sighed, the last remnants of anger draining from her form, and waved a hand helplessly. “Oh, well. If they do know our faces, whoever ‘they’ are, then it would have seemed odd if Black Star was seen without you.  Did you see anything that might be helpful in figuring out who ‘they’ are, or anyone who fit the description that Cain gave us?”  
         “I’m not sure.” Tsubaki bit her lip and stared at the ground, looking lost in thought. “There was a set of teenage triplets, two of whom might be the smaller kids that Cain mentioned, working on a corpse’s cosmetics in one room.  The ‘giant’ that Black Star mentioned was too old and a foot too tall to be the third teen. Other than that, the place was basically empty of people, other than a wake that was being held in one of the larger rooms.” The soft-spoken teen hesitated briefly before adding, “The minister that was talking at the wake seemed like he might fit the description of the third teen, but I’m not certain. Like you just pointed out, we don’t have much to go with.”  
         Soul blinked, looking behind the two girls at the black hearse that had just rolled to a stop in front of the mortuary. “Um…”   
         “I know.” Maka wiped her forehead again, then huffed out a breath to blow her bangs out of her eyes. “Thank you anyway, Tsubaki.”  
         “Guys…” Soul looked between the hearse, out of which a  reddish-brown haired boy had just appeared, and his friends.  
     “It’s nothing…” Tsubaki glanced down at her unconscious Maister. “I’m sorry about Black Star.”  
     “Guys..!” Soul watched the boy open the door for the coffin bearers; two more reddish-brown haired teens, the teen that had seemed to feel their gaze earlier, and a huge man in a well fitting suit. They slid the coffin into the back of the hearse as people started pouring out of the building, the sound of talking and crying loud enough to catch Maka and Tsubaki’s attention.   
      As Maka watched the five workers, she flashed a short look at him. “Soul, why didn’t you tell us they were out here?”  
       “...” Soul raised an eyebrow, then chuckled and grinned; deciding to tug his friend’s tail instead of getting uptight. “I guess I didn’t notice, tiny tits.”  
       At the detested nickname, Maka turned and gave him a glare so sharp that if looks could kill, he would have died immediately. “Shove it, Soul.” He just laughed quietly, shoulders shaking as his partner rolled her eyes in exasperation and turned back to the scene in front of them. “Tsubaki, those five are the ones that you saw, right?”  
       “Yes, that’s right.”  
        Maka nodded slowly, eyes narrowing again. “You’re right, they look like they could fit Cain’s descriptions… What do you think, Soul?”  
        “Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged, looking at their suspected kidnappers. “Then again, ‘big buff teen with two smaller teens’ fits a lot of kids…”  
         “But not all kids work at this specific mortuary and drive around in a hearse.”  
         Soul grinned and nodded. “Sounds good to me.”  Right about then was when the triplets got into the hearse while the other two mortuary workers walked back into the building.  “Who’s going after the hearse?”  
         “You two go on with them; I’ll stay here with Black Star and keep an eye on the ‘buff’ boy who just went back inside.” Tsubaki waved a hand in the direction of the mortuary.   
         “Alright. We’ll meet back up at the hotel later?”  
         “Sure.”  
         Maka nodded, satisfied, then tapped Soul’s shoulder and jerked her chin towards the hearse… which had just started to pull out. “Let’s go, Soul.’  
          Soul nodded and hopped to his feet, the heat temporarily forgotten in the excitement of having made progress. He remembered quickly as he left the shade of the trees, the teen silently thanking his lucky stars that he had put a bottle of sunblock in the bag on his motorcycle earlier. **I’ll put more on once we get there… wherever ‘there’ is.**  
          He slung a leg over the seat of his bike, grinning happily as he relaxed behind the wheel… eh, handles… of his motorcycle, feeling Maka slip onto the seat behind him. Her arms slipped around his waist, Soul grinning softly as he felt Maka relax against his back, keeping herself from falling off as they sped off in pursuit of the hearse.  
     
  
                                                                                  **Maka’s POV**  
          Maka yawned, her eyelids heavy as lead, rubbing a knuckle over her eyes before going back to watching the funeral. She and Soul were currently lying on the top of a rather large wall that ringed the graveyard that the procession had gone to, trying to stay inconspicuous by using the cover of an overhanging branch of a tree. So far, all that had happened was the casket bearers taking the casket over to a freshly dug hole, then retreating while the teenage minister gave a eulogy and several of the mourners began to give tearful speeches. **I really wish we didn’t have to lie down; I’m having a really hard time staying awake.** Maka yawned again, opening her eyes widely as they began to blur and shifting her weight from one elbow to the other before settling back down. **It’s sad that funerals are commonplace enough that this isn’t particularly sad, just boring.** Her head drooped as yet another person came forward to speak, her eyes closing briefly before Maka jerked her head back up sharply. As the speaker continued to talk, Maka’s head drooped again; her burning eyes closing, soothing the burn as they began to water with relief. She cracked her eyes open momentarily when Soul moved slightly beside her, but, as the sunlight made her eyes water even worse -  Maka barely managing to notice that Soul had just been getting himself into a more comfortable position before her eyes had to close once more - she let herself relax to the steady sound of Soul’s quiet breathing. That, coupled with the faint murmur of the person currently speaking over at the funeral, the warmth of the sun, the cool shade of the tree branch the two teens were hiding under, and the girl’s utter exhaustion from the last few sleepless days lulled Maka to sleep, despite the fact that she logically knew that she shouldn’t fall asleep for several reasons; one, they were there to watch the people who had potentially convinced her papa to betray the academy and to kidnap Crona, two, the two teens were sharing the room on top of a brick wall that was a little under a yard thick – making any tossing or turning she may do while unconscious likely to send either the Maister or Weapon off the wall, and three (plus technically four as well), Maka had been avoiding going to sleep for a reason; she had been having nightmares for the last few months – ever since the Kishin had died. And, much to her personal distaste, Maka had a tendency to scream when she woke from said nightmares. **But maybe I won’t dream this time…?**

  
       Asura smirked down at Maka, black blood dripping from the dozens of wounds her blades had sliced into him; thick blobs of black liquid plopping onto her face as he leaned in. “I can’t feel pain or fear. But how about you?” Maka’s eyes widened as his fingers dug into her side, her face twitching slightly as the Kishin’s fingernails sank into her skin. “Wake up…” Then Asura’s actual fingers began to slide into her side, and the girl began to scream; agony burning through her side. “Fighting while asleep is too dishonest.” Maka continued to scream as he yanked his fingers back out, feeling her own black blood pumping out of her wound. “Yes. That’s more like it. That emotion you’re feeling now is true fear.”  
       **No, you bastard, it’s pain! Give me a minute to work my way back to fear.** Maka’s thoughts tended to get highly sarcastic when she was stressed, and she was very stressed at the moment. Things didn’t get any better as her blades vanished and the Kishin began pull up by her throat, Maka half gagging and half choking as he did so. **Okay, yeah; I’m back to fear now.** “It’s alright – it’s time to give in. Surrender yourself to the madness too; it will free you from the fear.” Asura smirk widened, his black and white bangs covering his eyes for the moment. “All of the pain and anxiety will go away.” He tilted his face up, his oddly colored red eyes meeting hers **. It’s amazing how convincing he sounds – how kind, even though he’s got a death grip on my throat**. “There’s nothing you can do anyway. Your friends,” glancing over at the bloody, limp figures carelessly draped over rubble and left in huddled piles on the ground, “-your Anti-Magic Wavelength, nothing you tried worked on me.” The Kishin’s smirk turned into an oddly soft smile. “Now you’ve lost your partner, and you can’t control your body fully…” Maka could feel Asura’s madness swirling around them, oozing over her skin and creeping around the edge of her mind. “There is no way you can defeat me now.” His voice was filled with absolute certainty and satisfaction, his gaze never faltering.  
        **He-he’s right. There really isn’t anything I can do.** Maka’s eyes glazed over slightly, the teen focusing most of her energy on keeping his insanity from overwhelming her mind. **Nothing at all.** “There is no way for me to-“ Maka’s own voice trailed off, the girl feeling sick at the soft words that had slipped out of her mouth. **But they’re true. No matter how much I hate them, they’re true. The world… the world is doomed. We failed. I failed.**  
          “That’s right.” The smugness was back, tinging the ‘kindness’. “You have nothing left now.” Asura stroked her cheek with his free hand, tilting his head. “Just give in; let the madness overtake you. You won’t have to feel the pain of sorrow, the weight of other’s expectations…” **That sounds so nice. Just for once, not having to worry about being better – being the best that I can be – just to keep the teachers and my friends from being disappointed in me. That sounds so very, very nice.** Maka’s mental defence slipped momentarily, Asura nodding in approval. “That’s it; just let go.” Over the next few seconds, a very fierce battle took place in her mind; her feeling of obligation and duty warring with the unbelievable need to let the burdens that she had taken on and those that others had settled on her go. Eventually, however, her need overwhelmed her feeling of obligation, Maka hesitating briefly before letting all of her defenses go down with a shudder. “Good girl,” Asura purred, Maka gasping – her back arching slightly – as his madness flooded her mind, her fingers and head twitching unconsciously as her sanity was slowly drowned.   
          “M-Maka!” Maka looked over, concentrating with difficulty, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of Crona standing a few yards away. “Get aw-w-way from h-her!” Ragnaroc slid out of the teen’s wrist, Crona charging the Kishin with a shout. Maka convulsed slightly in Asura’s grip as her sanity continued to be smothered, a mad grin beginning to tug her lips up, silently shouting at Crona to run away. He had been working so hard to get rid of his madness, seeing her lose it was sure to wreck at the very least some of his progress. And with that thought, Asura’s madness overwhelmed her – Maka grinning widely.   
          “It’s all just so funny… y’know?”  
          Asura grinned, looking extremely pleased. “Yes, I do.” His hand released her, Maka not bothering to catch herself and so letting herself collapse to the ground; laughing wildly.   
           “Maka!” Crona slid forward, somehow managing to catch her before she hit the rocky ground. “M-Maka, are you okay?” Maka grinned up at worried blackish gray eyes, continuing to laugh. “Maka, wh-what…?” He paled, obviously figuring it out. “N-no… please, Maka, n-no…” Crona began to rock back and forth, his distress growing. “No, no no…” Maka’s laughter turned into almost hysterical shrieks of amusement as the madness in the air doubled, then tripled, Crona’s brow furrowing as he struggled against it. Then his shoulders went down, a wide, completely insane grin spread across his face, his fingers digging into her shoulder and waist painfully, chuckles tumbling from his lips in mad harmony with her. “I hate wobbly giggles…”   
           Maka laughed, finding that the funniest thing she had heard all day. “That's too bad; I like them!” The two teen cackled, Crona’s head drooped forward while hers was stretched back. They both ignored the shouts and horrified sounds from the other teens, all of whom were beginning to regain consciousness, Maka just continuing to enjoy her own little world. However, Maka did look over when Professor Stein stalked by, a mirror grin to theirs stretched almost painfully across his face, watching as he grabbed a slowly waking up Tsubaki by her braid and sliced a large Y down her chest – the scientist smirking at the Weapon’s cries of pain. Maka’s laughter continued, finding that hilarious, only getting louder as she noticed Kid painstakingly arranging everything around him in perfect symmetry, including the corpses of Liz and Patty. Just about then, her laughter broke off momentarily since she had suddenly turned into a black and gray Scythe, Crona easily catching her – again – before she hit the floor. He opened his mouth - an odd look in his silver eyes, looking like he was about to say something - when Asura grabbed her staff and took her out of Crona’s hands.   
            “How perfect. I’ll destroy the world with my madness, and with my own Scythe of death...” Asura grimaced slightly, frowning as his muscles bulged as he tried to keep her up; the Kishin not finding holding Maka’s Weapon form particularly easy. “But first, we’ll have to Resonate. My madness should work as a link to help us Resonate; all you have to do is relax and go with it.” Maka started to protest, but a particularly heavy wave of Asura’s madness left her with a severe case of the giggles; Asura somehow managing to have them Resonating before she remembered that she didn’t really want to. By then, though, the sensation of Resonating with pure insanity left her dazed, the girl barely noticing as Crona stepped into Asura’s path – the teen looking very pissed and ready to fight, Ragnaroc drawn. “Out of my way, Demon Swordsman.”  
            “No…”  
            “No? Yes. Get out of my way now!” Maka was so busy giggling at the thought that she had once tried to kill the Kishin and now she seemed to be his Weapon that she almost didn’t notice as her blade sliced through Crona; blood washing over her metal for the first time. Then, she was lost in hysterical laughter at having hurt such a close friend. Her laughter only got louder as Asura moved on past the dying boy, bright silver eyes meeting hers. “The world is mine…” Asura laughed, swinging Maka in an easy loop before lopping off Kid’s head, the teen never even having looked up from his OCD centered tasks. “The son of my enemy, vanquished with such ease. Who’s next?” Maka lost track of how many students her blade chopped down, how much blood poured over her frame, how many friends she saw die, as they moved along. However, the moment she truly lost all sense of anything but the madness, the absolutely overwhelming insanity, was when she sliced through Lord Death’s black cloak; the shinigami gasping once as he fell. Then… there was nothing in the world but madness, madness and laughter… forever.  
  
  
           Maka started hard, her eyes flashing open, feeling a hand over her mouth. She started to attack the hand’s owner, but quickly stopped when she realized it was Soul - his other hand holding a finger to his lips. “Shh… The funeral’s ended – I thought you might want to see what they’re doing. Sorry for waking you up, I know you need the sleep.” She grimaced, trying to get her nightmare out of her mind.   
          “Don’t worry about it; I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” Maka blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes to adjust quicker, finally being able to focus on the five figures and what exactly they were doing. Apparently, they had pulled the coffin back up out of the hole, and were filling the empty hole back up with dirt. **What in the world?** “What?”  
         “Yeah, exactly.” Soul nodded, showing his sharp teeth in a crooked smile. “Dunno what’s up with that, but it seemed hinky.” Maka frowned, watching the giant man and one of the triplets walk back out to the hearse and pull out a second coffin – setting it on the ground - before getting into the car. “Okay, wow. That’s weird...” He glanced between the three teens still filling in the grave and the man and teen that were getting ready to leave. “Um, what should we do?”  
        Maka rubbed her eyes wearily, scowling. “… you follow them on your bike; if they go back to the funeral home, come back here – Tsubaki and Black Star can keep an eye out there. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on these guys.”   
       “I don’t like this; it leaves you with a fight of three on one if anything goes wrong. This isn’t cool!” Soul looked away, tension clear in his muscles.  
        “It may not be ‘cool’, but it’s about the only option open right now. Unless you want me to follow them while you stay here? That way it would only be a two on one fight.” Maka hid a smile as she turned to Soul, keeping a straight face as she held out a hand. “If that sounds better, then hand me your keys.” Soul’s eye twitched, his knuckles rapping the top of the wall. Maka was playing rather dirty, and they both knew it; Soul didn’t really like anyone else driving his baby.  
       “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t let them spot you, got it? I’ll be back soon, hopefully.”   
      “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on it.” Maka gave Soul a cheerful smile, nodding towards the hearse which had started to drive off. “You’d better get going, Soul.” Soul nodded and wriggled out from under the branch, dropping off of the wall down to the ground below before trotting over to his motorcycle and heading out. Maka watched him go, returning her gaze to the three remaining boys in the graveyard. They finally opened the coffin and carefully pulled the corpse out, settling it in the hole before continuing to fill in the last foot or so of dirt. **Alright, that’s just an act of shoddy and rather crude penny pinching right there.** She shook her head disapprovingly, jaw clenched at the disrespect they were showing. **For people who claim to serve ‘all’, it sure looks like these people are just scamming ‘all’.** When they were done with that, they carried the empty coffin outside of the wall of the graveyard, picking up the second casket and carrying it into the graveyard. **I wonder what they’re planning on doing with that? There aren’t any other holes dug anywhere that I can see.** Maka watched in interest as they trudged over to one of the crypts in the area, opening the door and carrying it in before closing the door behind them. **Alright, then.** She frowned as the minutes dragged on, the boys seeming to be in no hurry to leave the good sized crypt. **Um… What the heck are they doing in there?** Maka closed her eyes, sending out her soul wavelength to see if there was another exit that the boys had gone out – there would be no point in hanging out here if the people she was wanting to watch had already left. They were there (a human and two Weapons), but Maka could also sense at least three other people (two humans and another Weapon) in the crypt with them… as well as an odd sensation that she couldn’t quite place. It had to be a soul, since she was able to pick it up with her soul wavelength, but it was far weaker than any soul she had ever felt before – and it almost seemed to be flickering. **That’s odd. What on earth?** Her eyes narrowed, Maka’s suspicions aroused, the teen propping herself up on her elbows as she opened her eyes to give the crypt a look. “What are you all doing in there?”  
         
                                                                                **Timor’s POV**  
        Timor grunted as he and two of the Cerberus triplets gently set down the casket inside the crypt, trying not to let the heavy wooden box drop on anyone’s toes. This was not a particularly easy task, since the crypt was technically only supposed to be big enough for up to four laid out bodies and a foot and a half wide walk space. However, at the moment, the room was being taken up by a table, an unconscious teen in a chair, a coffin, four standing teens and a woman. “Here you go, cuz,” Timor announced, taking a large step over the top of the casket and turning around to sit on the table. “Happy birthday.”  
        “Gee, thanks.” Memoria’s tone was dry, the teen raising one delicate eyebrow and giving him a look. “Just what I always wanted.” She smiled crookedly and sighed, going to peek inside the coffin, grunting as she tried to lift the lid. Timor hopped back off the table and went to help her; lifting the lid easily and letting his cousin see inside. “That should work.” Memoria nodded approvingly and stepped back, giving Crona’s unmoving form a slightly dreading look. Timor grimaced sympathetically, knowing that she had been getting to take a break while she had been waiting on them and their gift – now she had no excuse not to get back to work. He probably should have taken longer to get through the service, but Timor never enjoyed funerals and wasted as little time as possible when it was his turn to speak. It hadn’t helped that he had felt a spike of someone’s fear nearby – probably someone getting mugged; it was a bad neighborhood. Timor could have used his magic to sense the source of the fear, but he had absolutely no interest in getting even more nightmare fodder than he already had.  
           “Really?” Timor couldn’t help flinching in surprise at the smooth voice, still not used to the woman. “How interesting. Your processes should prove… fascinating. I look forward to seeing you at work, Memoria.” The woman smiled, the expression somehow sending a shiver up Timor’s spine. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask a few questions.”  
          “Not at all.” His cousin may have agreed, but Timor knew it was mostly just out of guilt; Memoria hated talking about what she did, even the more extraordinary aspects. Then again, this was giving her a longer break from having to work on Crona, even if it was just for another few minutes. “What do you want to know?”  
  
  
                                                                                **Maka’s POV**  
          Maka frowned, the minutes ticking by without the three teen’s coming back out of the crypt. **What are they doing in there? And what in Death’s name is the deal with that one soul?** She sent out her soul wavelength again, concentrating on the oddly fluttering soul. **It almost seems _familiar_ , but how can it be? I can quite honestly say I’ve never felt a soul like this before.** Her eyes narrowed, the girl giving the stone crypt a hard, calculating look. “If Soul doesn’t come back soon, I may just have to risk checking things out by myself.”   
          She looked down the road that her partner had driven away on, grimacing slightly at her own silliness as she looked at the still empty street. Maka sighed and returned her gaze to the door of the crypt, her mind wandering as she began to grow bored. All too soon, she was trying to keep from remembering her dream – which only forced her mind to think about it more as she thought about what it was that she wasn’t wanting to remember, in an attempt to help her brain ignore what she wasn’t wanting to remember…   
          Needless to say, her tactic didn’t help in the slightest.   
          Maka sighed again, heavier this time, and finally let the memory of her nightmare wash over her. The teen’s knuckles whitened as her fingers tightened over the edge of the wall as she fidgeted, her stomach roiling in discomfort at the mix of thoughts of the nasty dream and her all too real memories. **I really wish Crona was here; he could always help me get my head straight after one of my nightmares. It’s amazing, how much easier it is to help someone else with the same problem that you have – and for them to help you - than it is to just deal with it on your own… even if the help is just hearing that someone else went through the same issues as you have.**  
          _Maka was walking through Death City aimlessly, ignoring the low chuckles of the moon as it stared at the lost in thought teen, mind caught up in the rather gory details of her newest nightmare. She had snuck out of her apartment, deciding to get rid of her excess adrenaline and cool down by walking in the crisp night air, not wanting to wake either of her housemates. The girl finally looked up from the path under her feet, flinching as she noticed that she was – yet again – at the decimated area of Death city that was still under reconstruction. Even though the rubble had been cleared, roads and sidewalks had been remade, and framework for replacement buildings had been put up, Maka could still see where every bit of the fight had taken place.  
           She shuddered, unnerved. Maka usually wore her school uniform, the clothes eventually having taken on an almost protective feel when she wore them – like a very light, thin set of armor – but since she was just coming out on a short walk, Maka was still in her pajamas; her heavy boots the only bit of comfort she had on at the moment. The girl knelt, brushing her fingers over the segment of sidewalk where Kid, Liz and Patty had almost died after Kid had tried to kill the Kishin by using the Death Cannon when his soul energy was already low, then glancing over to the corner of a partially reconstructed building – the place where Black Star and Tsubaki had lain, also nearly dead from extreme exhaustion and bad beatings. She shuddered again, rubbing her fingers hard against each other to try and get rid of the unclean feeling that the memory had left on her skin. Maka swallowed hard, eyes drawn to one more particularly traumatic area for her. She stood and slowly walked over to the middle of a crossroad, glancing around to make sure that the streets were completely abandoned before lying down in the exact spot where Asura had sunk his fingers into her side like her skin was butter. Maka was shaking now, eyes glazed over as she reran through the scene for the thousandth time since the Kishin’s death, her fingers slipping under her shirt to feel the five raised oval scars. She had plenty of old scars, everyone at the Academy did, but none of them had ever had as big of an impact on her as these. No one had ever taken such sadistic glee at slowly and cruelly tearing into her flesh before, no one had ever caught her so completely defenseless before, no one had ever terrified her absolutely witless before. That was what had so traumatized her; it wasn’t so much the pain – Dr Stein could work miracles, and she was used to pain -  it was the utterly overwhelming sense of paralyzing fear that she couldn’t even shake now. She had honestly thought that her friends were dead, that Soul was almost dead, and that once she had died that there would be nothing to stop Asura from killing or making everyone else that she loved kill each other in his madness. Her courage? The punch that had killed the Kishin? That had been born out of a thought that she was about to die anyway; she might as well sock the bastard who had hurt her friends for them once before she died. Maka had been absolutely shell shocked when the Kishin had died from the blow, though she had quickly managed to put on a calm façade when she realized that her friends were beginning to regain consciousness.   
         “M-Maka?” Maka jolted, her eyes flashing open wide as several Scythe blades slipped out of her chest and arms, abruptly snapping out of her haunted thoughts at the quiet voice. She was up on her feet, wrist Scythe blades aimed at whoever had managed to sneak up on her, before she barely even registered that whoever had spoken had stuttered. It took another few seconds for her eyes to adjust enough to let her see that the speaker was actually Crona, the other teen’s silver eyes wide as he squeaked in alarm and stumbled back a step. “S-s-sorry!”  
        “Oh, Death!” Maka concentrated – her Weapon blood was still very new to her, only seeming to really show itself when she thought or dreamed about the fight with the Kishin, and she had a hard time controlling it – the blades flashing blue as they vanished. “I’m so sorry, Crona!” Crona was the only person who knew about her being able to Manifest, the girl not willing or really mentally able to even contemplate letting anyone else know, and even that was mostly an accident; the boy had stumbled across her when she was trying to get rid of one of her Manifested blades in a panic after falling asleep close to the end of class – Crona having come back into the classroom a few minutes after everyone else had left to check on her. But if anyone else knew, then Maka had the very bad feeling that everyone would know soon after that… and then she would have to deal with her papa’s reaction to the news, as well as probably starting training as a Weapon. Who knew, Lord Death might even decide that she couldn’t be Soul’s Maister anymore! After all, the only Weapons that Maka knew who could use other Weapons were the Thompson sisters… and they were still considered just plain Weapons, not Weapons and Maisters. After all the years of work that she had put in to help Soul be a Death Scythe, and after coming so close to having perfectly walked in her mother’s footsteps, Maka couldn’t bear to think that her papa could potentially destroy everything…again. Crona, though, Maka trusted to keep her secret – though she was happily surprised that Ragnaroc had done so as well so far, the teen having far less faith in the rather rude Weapon.   
          “Don’t w-worry about it,” Crona replied, offering her a faint smile. “I should have an-n-n-nounced myself a ways back; especially when you’re here.” Maka flushed slightly as the boy tilted his head, giving her a sadly understanding look. “-for the f-fifth night in a row. The nightmares ag-g-gain?”   
          “Yeah.” Maka shuddered slightly, slipping her hands into her stretch pants pockets. “This time, it was me having to watch Asura as he beat Kid, Liz, Patty, Black Star, Tsubaki and Soul over and over until they dropped… and then his madness slipped into their minds, and they tore each other apart.” Her gaze fell to the ground briefly before she shut her eyes tightly, hating the images of the past that she saw all around her, Maka’s eyes opening again as Crona rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I had to check in on Soul, to make sure he was still alive. I wake up in my bed, in my pajamas, but I still feel absolutely certain that they’re all dead…” Maka’s mouth quivered slightly, her eyes glassing over with tears, before she got control back over herself and pressed her lips hard together and blinked to clear away the unshed tears.   
          “At least they aren’t, right? That’s a good th-thing.” Maka smiled crookedly at Crona’s tone, the boy clearly worried. “And you know it’s j-just a nightmare, now. And the real thing’s already d-done, you don’t ever have to do th-that again.”  
         “Yes, you’re absolutely right.” Maka forced herself to smile cheerfully, moving her lips into a smooth upward curve, trying to help Crona feel better. “Never again.”  
        “And after fighting the K-K-Kishin, Kishin Eggs will be easy to d-defeat, right?” Maka huffed out a wry chuckle, coming to the conclusion once again (he had tried to comfort her in similar fashions before) that while Crona was a kind hearted, extremely sweet boy, he was horrible at thinking up comforting things to say.   
       “You’ve got that right, Crona; they’ll be a piece of cake.” She had to stifle another wry chuckle as she watched the boy’s face wrinkle in confusion – almost able to read Crona’s thoughts as he wondered how all the Kishin Eggs had turned into cake. “How about you? Are you out here because of nightmares too?”  
      Crona’s hand moved off of her shoulder, the teen dipping his head in a nod, going to grip his arm as he took a few steadying breaths before he spoke again – his normally quiet voice almost inaudible at first, slowly growing in volume until he reached his usual speaking volume. “L-Lady Medusa… I didn’t h-have the will to g-go against her when th-the moment c-c-came, not even when M-Miss Marie b-begged me. I j-just watched as she k-k-killed Miss Marie.” The teen’s grip on his arm tightened, Maka wincing slightly as she saw his knuckles beginning to whiten – hoping the slender boy wasn’t cutting off his arm’s circulation. “And th-then,” Crona broke off, his breathing and voice ragged, having to take a few seconds before trying again. “Th-then she had me e-eat Miss M-Marie’s soul. Not Ragnaroc; me.” Almost black blue eyes glanced up briefly at her, full of terrified shame, as Maka’s stomach twisted at the thought. She had always been very grateful that Medusa had never quite bullied the boy into actually eating a soul himself, and knew that the thought of becoming a Kishin or a Kishin Egg was one of Crona’s deepest fears now. “When y-you came…I…I…” Crona’s expression was wracked with guilt and grief, obviously reliving his dream. “I-I was the one wh-who h-h-hurt you. I w-was the one wh-who sc-carred you.” As Cron spoke, his fingers curled even harder into his arm; Maka starting forward slightly in real concern for his arm. “I-I-I w-was the K-K-Kishin.” Maka pulled him into a tight hug, her own dreams now forgotten, feeling the boy shaking like a leaf against her. Crona hesitated briefly, his trembling getting worse. “L-Lady Med-dusa…” Crona mumbled, his voice weak and wobbly, “-she w-was so… p-proud.” With that, he pretty much melted into her embrace; the other teen crying silently as he returned the hug, leaning against her as he rested his head against her shoulder and neck.   
            They stayed like that for quite a while, Maka doing a bit of crying of her own with the boy, until both had emptied themselves of their fear filled tears – going on to sit side by side on the rooftop of one of the house frames for a while longer, just soaking in the silent peacefulness of the dark city and the warm comfort of an understanding companion, before reluctantly heading back towards their separate beds; Maka waving goodbye to Crona as he headed on back towards the Academy, while she headed back towards her and Soul’s apartment._   
             Maka blinked, startled to find a small smile on her lips as she snapped out of her thoughts at a familiar rumble; Maka turning her head to see Soul zipping back on his motorcycle. **Huh. Even when he’s not here, Crona’s able to help.** However, as Soul got closer, she could see that he wasn’t just pale because of a mixture of being albino and wearing a generous slathering of sunblock; the boy also looked pretty upset. He braked beside the wall, looking up and hissing, “Maka! We’ve got to get back to the academy ASAP! Come on, I’ll explain on the road.”  
           **But the weird soul!**  "Soul, I really think we should check out what’s going on in-“  
          Soul interrupted her. “No time; we’ve got to get going NOW! Come on!”  
          Maka sent one more warily curious glance in the crypt’s – and the odd soul’s – direction before slipping off of the wall and hopping onto the back of the motorcycle, Soul speeding off the instant that she got a good grip on him. **What on earth is going on?** Maka wondered, repeating the thought she had earlier aimed at the odd soul and the group of humans and Weapons who apparently wanted to hang out together in a crypt… with a coffin.  
  
  
                                                                                **Ragnaroc’s POV**  
        Ragnaroc was trying to calm down, but it wasn’t easy. Raven was freaked out too, the former shadow pacing back and forth in front of the shadow door leading into Crona’s beach. Both were very uneasy because of the earthquake-like shudder that had rocked the room quite a while back, the screens that showed what Crona was seeing and thinking about both left hanging crookedly – the screen faces covered in hissing pale gold static. “Gah…! This is really bad!” Raven was almost a believable Crona at this point – the only thing that could have made it any more similar would have been if it had gone and sat in one of the rooms corners and cried for a little while or if it started stuttering and grabbing it’s arm. “This should not be possible!”  
        “Raven, calm down; you’re not helping!” Ragnaroc’s eye twitched as the shadow continued pacing and muttering to itself, the teen only managing to tolerate his companion for another few minutes before he finally growled and stormed over to snag the back of Raven’s shirt and hoist the shadow up off the floor. “Dude, seriously. Calm the heck down. NOW!”  
         Raven dangled by its shirt, looking slightly flabbergasted that Ragnaroc had actually just done that. “Why’d you do that?”  
         “Because I’m freaked, and you pacing around in circles isn’t exactly helping.”  
        “Oh.” Raven smiled slightly, looking somewhat sheepish. “Sorry.” Ragnaroc gave the shadow a wary looking over before setting it back on its feet, going back to sit in one of the chairs.   
         “So.” Ragnaroc rubbed his fingers over his mouth, eyes fixed to the apparently broken screens. “Any ideas on what happened or how to fix it?”  
         “Nope.” Raven shrugged, also going and sitting down. “That’s why I’ve been pacing. Nervous energy…” The shadow fidgeted in its seat for a minute or two, then abruptly got back up and walked over to the fizzing monitors – tapping them with the tip of a fingernail. “These should be black if they don’t have pictures, not yellow. They also shouldn’t be able to be loose on the wall like this.” It bit its lip worriedly, fingertips lightly running over the screen. “These are both for Crona, right? These two-“ pointing to the two remaining black screens still properly attached to the wall, “- are for the other Ragnaroc… right?”  
        “Yeah, that’s about the long and short of it.”   
        Raven went back to pacing again, going back and forth in front of the screens. “Nngh. This is bad, I just know it! Something happened to Crona, something big… Gah! This is really, really bad!”  
        “You already said that.” Ragnaroc murmured dryly, his worry taking itself out on Raven in a wry observation. “Any new thoughts on the matter?”  
        “No, not really…” Raven hesitated then opened its mouth again, about to say something, when the shadow door that Raven used to get to the beach rattled loudly. Both teens glanced at each other, frozen in shock, then back towards the door. Ragnaroc saw Raven fade back into its shadow form once again out of his peripheral vision, Raven blending in with Ragnaroc’s shadow on the floor, just as the handle turned and the door swung open.  
        Ragnaroc’s jaw dropped open as a vaguely female figure made entirely out of pale white-ish gold crackling sparks of what looked like electricity walked in, the ‘girl’ looking around seemingly with just as much fascinated curiosity as Ragnaroc was taking in looking ‘her’ over. “Um… hi…” The girl waved at Ragnaroc, the motion slightly awkward.   
       It took the boy a few minutes to realize she was actually talking to him; Ragnaroc really not used to being spoken to by anyone other than himself (meaning Rude). Even Raven being in was unusual – generally the shadow only joined Ragnaroc and Rude in their rooms when Crona was losing himself in his insanity. “…hey…?” The teen jerked his chin up in an equally awkward nod, giving the girl a cautiously quizzical smile. **What in the heck?**  
        “I’m…um… Memoria…” The girl grimaced, looking very uncomfortable. “-and I’ve come to ask you a really big favor that you’re probably not going to like.”  
         
  
                                                                          **Mystery woman’s POV**  
         The woman watched silently as Timor and the two Cerberus boys carefully set the coffin lid aside and picked the body inside up – gently setting it down on the table and fastening leather straps over unmoving limbs. **I’ve never heard of anything like this ever being done before,** she mused silently **,  -though of course, I had never heard of anyone with the power to manipulate someone’s fears before either.** Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, her gaze moving from the corpse on the table over to the almost equally still lavender haired teen in the chair. **I’m not certain if I’m completely comfortable with this being done, though. After all, it seems rather counterproductive, at least for all the effort-**  
         Her thoughts were broken off mid-sentence as Memoria whimpered, the small girl’s expression wracked with a flash of pain. The woman’s eyes flicked to the girl, watching her face with interest and ignoring the boys who uncomfortably made their way around the woman as she stood in the middle of the room.   
  
  
                                                                                  **Ragnaroc’s POV**  
         Ragnaroc stared at Memoria, the teen’s face creased with an unusual depth of anger for him, his fingers tightening around the girl’s throat. Surprisingly enough, she was solid – which Ragnaroc had found out when he had surged forward, grabbed her throat, and slammed her up against one of the walls in the room. “You’re the one who’s been hurting Crona?!”  
         “F-for the last day or two, yeah…” the girl gasped, her face twisted in discomfort as she struggled to breath. Ragnaroc’s fury grew, his grip completely cutting off her oxygen for a few brief minutes, before the faint sound of insane laughter rippled around the room, the shadows deepening and thickening around Raven’s door. The teen flinched and abruptly let go – the girl falling to the floor – Raven having managed to remind Ragnaroc what he was doing without talking; Raven was Crona’s violence and insanity, so if Raven found what Ragnaroc was doing amusing, Ragnaroc had passed a pretty serious line.   
         Ragnaroc stalked over to one of the chairs, plopping down with a growl and glaring over at the gagging Memoria. She dry heaved once more before sitting up with a grimace and a shudder, her frail frame then being racked with a vicious pummeling of ragged coughs. “Nngh...”  
         “Why?!” Ragnaroc’s voice was a snarled rumble, his hands shaking with anger. Crona had been put through so much pain by the girl, and she had the nerve to come in to the poor boy’s mind – Ragnaroc wasn’t quite calm enough to try and even start puzzling out why or how she had done that yet – and ask Ragnaroc for a favor?   
          “Because,” the girl rasped, a hand rubbing her throat gingerly. “It was necessary t-“  
          “It was fucking _necessary_?!” Rude’s voice tore through the air, Memoria twitching in surprise and twisting to stare in shock at the smaller boy. “What the hell?!!” The comically formed boy was leaning heavily on the frame of his door, x eyes bugged out more than usual as he glared furiously at the girl. “What is _wrong_ with you?!?”  
          “Please, let me finish?” the girl pleaded, looking confused as she glanced between the two, before shaking her head and visibly collecting her thoughts. “I can’t help what Crona had to go through-“  
          Both Ragnarocs growled at Memoria’s words, though Rude also added, “Had to go through, my ass. You rat bastards tortured him for no good reason!” Ragnaroc held up a hand to get him to quiet down for the moment despite agreeing full heartedly with the other boy, wanting to hear what the girl had to say. After a few seconds of indignant spluttering, Rude rolled his eyes in disgust and stayed quiet – rather surprising Ragnaroc, who had expected more of an argument from the short tempered boy.   
          “Thank you…” Memoria mumbled, nodding at Ragnaroc. Ragnaroc just glared at her, not having stopped the smaller Ragnaroc for her benefit. “I can’t help what Crona had to go through, but I can help the rest of his life be much better. All I’ll need from you - both of you - is a promise.”  
         “…what?!” both Ragnarocs spoke in unison, identical looks of utter wary confusion scrawled across their faces.   
  
  
                                                                                **Kid’s POV**  
         Kid was panicking badly, and was trying to calm himself down before he had another OCD attack - knowing that that really wouldn’t help things. He had locked himself into one of the empty closets in an unoccupied room at their inn, things in the small room being perfectly symmetrical, and was doing some calming breathing exercises. **Breathe in; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight… And out; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. In; one, two three-**  
         The door to the closet swung open, light pouring in and temporarily blinding Kid, the teen shinigami flinching as his concentration was torn apart. Getting to his feet, he blinked away the stars in his eyes to see two worried Weapon and Maister pairs staring at him. “What’s up, Kid? You told Black Star and Tsubaki to get us back as soon as possible!”  
         “You should tell your god what’s going on!” Black Star agreed, the blue haired teen’s normal grin slightly dimmed with concern.   
         “Have you heard something new about where Crona is?” Maka asked, her green eyes piercing as they stared hopefully at him.   
         His anxiety, which had actually managed to vanish for a few brief seconds as he was startled, was yanked back to the forefront of Kid’s mind at his friends’ worry and curiosity. The young shinigami began fiddling with his brooch – adjusting and readjusting it – as a coping and distracting technique as he took a breath and tried to sound calm as he explained what had upset him…and what was about to potentially ruin any progress they may have made over the past few days. “Apparently, Stein was unable to convince my father that we are out on a job; we are being ordered to return back to the Academy at once. Failure to comply by this evening will result in an immediate change in orders for all of Father’s agents; they will then be ordered to kill Crona on sight, and arrest all of us with extreme prejudice and hold us until further notice.” Kid’s forefinger began tapping on his brooch as he adjusted it, the teen knowing he was giving in to his OCD as he rapped out several sets of eight beats but unable to help the small concession to his disorder at the moment. “Apparently, Father’s illness has only gotten worse while we’ve been gone; from what Stein managed to tell me, he’s become delirious. He is convinced now that Crona is trying to become a new Kishin, and that we’re trying to join him to destroy the Academy.”  
         “What?!” This was a collective yelp from four of his friends, Liz and Patty having been there while Kid was speaking with Stein and so already knowing what was going on.  
         “Even you? You’re his heir!” Maka noted in disbelief, the girl slightly pale. “What possible motive could he think that you would have to destroy your inheritance?”  
         “I don’t know,” Kid admitted, straightening his brooch once more before sticking his hands in his pockets to keep himself from messing with it. “I can’t truly think of any myself, but I suppose being sick helps a person’s imagination run wild. In any case, if we don’t want to sign Crona’s death warrant and cement our own captivity, I suggest we make our way back to Death City to talk to Father and try to explain what all we’ve found.”  
        “Yeah, I guess.” Soul then voiced what everyone was thinking or feeling, “This is _not_ cool…”  
                                                                                              |  
  
                                                                                **R** **agnaroc’s POV**  
       “Let me get this straight; you’re about to wipe Crona’s memory,” Rude drawled, the small figure’s x eyes glaring at Memoria. “And you don’t want us to tell him that you and your creepy ass friends went and tortured him for who knows how long, you don’t want us to say anything about the only freaking good point of time in the kid’s life, you don’t want us to tell him about the worst person in his life, and you want us to pretend that we’ve all been around each other for years. In short, you want us to lie our fucking brains out.”  
      “More or less, yes, please,” Memoria agreed, nodding. “This way, he will believe that his life has been far happier than it actually was – which should help his state of mind – and he’ll be willing to work with us. It’s a win win situation, don’t you think?”  
       “Except for the fact that he’s gonna lose every single good memory of the Academy, sure.” Ragnaroc added, not any happier about the girl’s request than his smaller counterpart. “His friends-“  
       “-would not have been the overwhelming force that they are now in his mind if he hadn’t been mistreated so badly as a child.” Memoria smoothly interrupted, the girl’s sparks beginning to fade slightly. “Look, I know how big of a deal this is… but come on; which do you think would help him more – to have grown up a tortured boy, whose few friends all pity him, or for him to grown up in happier surroundings, where intentional abuse is an abhorrent thought?” She raised her eyebrows, Ragnaroc glaring silently at the floor. “That’s what I thought.” The girl sighed quietly and got to her feet, walking into Rude’s room (despite the boy’s emphatic unhappiness at this unexpected intrusion), returning after a minute with a picture in her hands – ignoring Rude’s even louder and angrier protests – and handing it to Ragnaroc. “You two can’t honestly tell me that you wouldn’t like to go back to this point in time, can you?”  
       Rude snatched the picture out of the girl’s hand before Ragnaroc could take it, the smaller figure staring blankly at the photo for a moment before scoffing, “Oh, hell yeah I can,” and dropping the picture like it was on fire before storming back into his room and slamming the door behind him. Ragnaroc couldn’t blame the other boy when he heard the lock click shut loudly, since he would sincerely like to do the same thing at the moment. However he couldn’t, so the teen just knelt and picked up the photo, his expression going slightly soft as he ran a light knuckle over the people in the picture.   
       “It’d be nice, but it’s not about to happen.” He shrugged, sighing and setting the picture back down. After a few minutes, both the girl and boy watched it disappear into thin air – Ragnaroc knowing that it had returned to the secret compartment of his chest of drawers. **Though, it’s apparently not nearly as secret as it was meant to be.**   
       “Why not?”  
       Ragnaroc frowned at Memoria, not appreciating her question. “Because. Both of them are gone –though that’s more figurative for one than the other, I hope - and I really doubt you can bring either back at this point.”  
       “I have a feeling that you might be surprised by what my family can arrange…” Memoria mumbled, fingers running back through her hair. “Look, just… please? All I need is a promise from at least one of you – though it would be perfect to get one from both of you.” Her sparks were very dull now, barely more than a weak glow.   
       “Why the hell should we promise you anything, bitch?!” Rude’s voice yelled from the other side of the door, Ragnaroc wincing slightly at the language but agreeing with the sentiment.   
       “Why not?” The girl raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “What do you really have to lose at this point?” She gave Rude’s door an odd look as laughter became audible inside, Ragnaroc just ignoring it - having a feeling that Rude’s dirty mind had something to do with his amusement. “Um… anyway, just about the only outcomes left are good ones; you two are kind of hitting rock bottom right now.”  
       “Things can always get worse,” Ragnaroc disagreed, shaking his head. “Always. There is no rock bottom in life, just a never ending abyss that you can fall deeper into.”  
       Rude’s door unlocked and cracked open slightly, Rude glancing out with a highly unimpressed look on his face. “Wow. That was depressing as shit, man.” The Weapon hesitated, then gave Memoria a short look and nod. “Fine. If you can really do what you say you can, I promise not to say anything to Crona. We good, Sparky?” Rude didn’t wait for a response from either of them, instead smirking, “Good.” and slamming the door shut again.   
       Memoria looked at Ragnaroc expectantly, the teen glaring at her for another few minutes in silence before growling and jerking his chin up in a highly grudging nod. “Whatever. Sure. I promise too.”  
       “Thank you…”   
  
                                                                               
                                                                              **Mystery Woman’s POV**  
        The woman had been watching Memoria intently for the last half hour or so, despite the fact that the girl hadn’t moved more than an inch over that time. However, the woman’s steady gaze finally paid off as the girl’s eyes opened, Memoria grimacing and removing her hand from Crona’s head – rubbing her own temples wearily.   
         She continued to watch, though now her gold gaze was filled with fascinated curiosity rather than calculating patience, as Memoria accepted a small glass bottle from Timor – the sturdy teen also having been keeping watch on the girl. Memoria’s hand sparked with pale white-gold crackles of energy, the girl touching Crona’s forehead with her forefinger and running the tip of her finger down the boy’s nose and upper lip. Timor leaned over the girl’s shoulder, gently pulling Crona’s mouth open slightly, Memoria quickly placing the open mouth of the bottle at the corner of the lavender haired boy’s mouth – an odd sludge of blue and gold streaked black ooze slowly seeping out of Crona’s mouth into the bottle. After a few minutes, the sludge stopped, and Memoria corked the bottle – setting it carefully into a drawer in the table. **How interesting; those must be Crona’s memories – I honestly didn’t expect them to look so similar to his black blood.** The woman stepped closer, planning on getting the bottle to inspect closer later, only to get distracted as Memoria’s hands both lit up with pale gold-white sparks – the girl resting them briefly on either side of Crona’s head. Memoria then frowned, the woman able to see sweat dripping down her face, hissing softly as she slowly pulled her hands back. As the girl did so, a thick smog began exuding from Crona’s skin where she had been touching him – the murky fog the same colors as the boy’s memories had been – seemingly being attracted to the girl’s hands. Memoria’s movements remained slow as she turned away from Crona and headed for the corpse on the table, the sparks crackling around the girl’s fingers getting weaker and weaker with each passing second, finally managing to rest her fingers on the corpse’s forehead. The fog hovered around the corpse’s head momentarily before seeming to be sucked in through its mouth and nose, the sparks around Memoria’s hands beginning to flicker out now. “Timor!” the girl murmured, her weak voice sounding very worried to the woman. Timor hurriedly handed her a small iron chain and lock, the girl quickly sliding the chain around the corpse’s neck before hooking both ends into the chain and clicking it shut – the last of the sparks on and around her fingers flying off to sink into the chain. Memoria sighed, looking relieved, and promptly fainted, her cousin catching her almost before her knees buckled.   
       The woman ignored the small drama, moving past those two to look over the two that she was truly interested in. “Memoria seems to have failed,” she noted unemotionally, though her stomach had dropped slightly at the thought.   
      “No, she did what she was supposed to. It’s your turn now; a body that has memories without at least a connection to a soul is worthless, but we can’t do anything about that. You, however, can.” Timor muttered absently, his main attention still with the girl.   
      Gold eyes gleamed in suddenly sparked glee, the woman smirking and letting out a pleased chuckle. “That’s right… I can.” She muttered a few words, assuming it was safe to release her soul protect since the girl had done the same thing earlier to begin working again, eyes narrowing as she began puzzling over how best to proceed. **Hmm…  
  
**  
                                                                                           **Raven’s POV**  
      The shadow pulled itself up out of the normal shadows of the room, solidifying back into the mirror image of Crona once more. After enjoying the feel of being three dimensional again for a few minutes, it walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, staring at the four screens in concern. **This really is bad. I can’t say I trust that Memoria girl, and I definitely disagree with what she wants to do – what she’s already done. I much prefer Crona the way he is to the way he used to be.** Raven chuckled softly at the thought, eyes dancing with insanity **. Sane innocence is so much less interesting than mad innocence, in my opinion. Causing a little pain and suffering never hurt anyone… well, except for the person or people that have to deal with the pain and suffering, that is…**  
        Raven laughed, the sound bubbling up and flowing out of its throat easily. “I’d like to cause those troublemakers out there a little pain and suffering,” it admitted to itself, regretting speaking aloud as it heard Ragnaroc sigh. “I’m just saying.”  
        “Yeah, I know.” Ragnaroc passed in front of Raven, sitting opposite of it. “I wish I knew if this was a good idea.”  
        “I’m pretty sure you already know it’s a bad idea. It’s never a good idea to agree to just about anything that someone who has been torturing a friend has asked of you, and we all know it.” Raven shrugged, its eyes narrowing slightly as it thought. “But like she said; there weren’t really all that many other choices that any of us could have made.” The shadow rested its chin on the top of its fist, elbow sitting on the arm of the chair. “If you two hadn’t agreed, who knows what might have happened next; they could have continued torturing Crona, they might have found some way to destroy you, or they might have even just given up and killed Crona.” Raven tilted its head, the side of its chin sinking down a tad in between the sides of two of its fingers. “Though, I am curious what was on that picture she had; it seemed to affect both you and Ru-“ The shadow coughed, stopping itself from using Ragnaroc’s rather catchy nickname for his smaller counterpart. “-and small Ragnaroc.”  
        “Oh, bite me!” Rude snapped, Raven twisting in surprise at the smaller Ragnaroc being behind it – not having heard his door open. “And how is that any of your business, nosy?”  
        Ragnaroc shrugged out of the corner of Rude’s eye, the larger boy looking lost in thought. “It was just something from a long time back.” The Weapon rubbed his forehead wearily, eyes dull. “I had completely forgotten about it, actually. Which is sad…” Ragnaroc looked at Rude, Raven almost able to see the silent argument going on for the next few minutes before Rude stormed into his room – a loud rattling and thunks sounding from inside Rude’s room before the boy returned with a picture in his hand and a dark scowl on his face; x eyes promising murder.   
        However, before the comically shaped boy even made it halfway across the room, both Ragnarocs began glowing with a nasty blackish violet aura. Raven’s eyes widened in shock, the shadow starting up to its feet to try and help in some way, but by the time that Raven had managed to get up… both Ragnarocs had collapsed, and had begun to fade. **Well. That’s new. And, much like all the rest of the new things that have been happening, I seriously doubt that it’s good in any way.** The Ragnarocs’ fading finally stopped when they basically looked like stereotypical ghosts; barely visible, with extremely dull coloring. **Yeah… I really can’t see how that could be good. Well, maybe if it had just happened to Rude, but…  
**          Raven knelt, its curiosity overwhelming its worry, picking up the photo from the floor where it had slipped from Rude’s hand. Turning it face up, Raven’s eyebrows went up. “Well. That… was not what I was expecting to see.”  
  
  
                                                                                  **Timor’s POV**  
      Timor had basically been ignoring what the woman was doing; far more concerned with his cousin than with whatever creepy stuff she was doing to Crona. However, when a coldly pleased laugh rang out, Timor figured that that was probably a pretty good clue that she might be done and glanced up. Sure enough, the very tip of a black-violet line was sinking into the corpse’s chest, the woman smirking triumphantly as she leaned in for a closer look. Timor gently moved to get up, trying not to disturb Memoria, and came over to see what was happening. At first… nothing was happening. But then, the chain around the corpse’s throat glowed a bright white-gold, and quite a few things began to happen. The corpse’s features began to shift, the skull changing shape, while the muscles over the body began to swell or shrink. Hair sprouted out of the bald scalp - short, soft, lavender locks – and on the face in the form of eyebrows. White and brown scars began growing on the corpse’s skin, though the most immediately noticeable scar was in a large X shape on the face – a long white X scar running over the eyebrows, crossing over the bridge of its nose, and going down the cheeks, with nasty looking bubbled burned skin around the white scar.  
        Timor was so absorbed in watching these changes that he almost didn’t notice when the corpse –which now looked like a twenty year old male – blinked, dark gold eyes looking up at the ceiling in slight confusion. Timor’s own eyes widened as that sunk in, even though this had been the result that everyone had been hoping for, his mouth opening as he leaned in with absolute awe… only to jump and yelp softly when the woman’s cold voice spoke up again beside him, startling the teen badly.   
         
        “Hello, Ragnaroc.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {chuckles wryly}  
> This really isn't one of my favorite chapters that I've done, though I did enjoy writing out Maka's nightmare sequence and memory; I've been planning on doing something like that since about chapter five or so... 
> 
> Again, I apologize for taking so long to put this chapter out... I hate leaving it for that long, but I just didn't have enough time to work on it. Thank you to everyone who left comments over the missing author period of time; when I was able to get back on, your comments really helped give me the energy and focus to work on writing out this chapter..!
> 
> As always, please comment, criticize, review, request, or put out a mix of those options.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally planning on leaving this up for a week with the note 'Your choice; should this be a chapter story or a series?' But... I changed my mind. I apparently have an inability at this point to write series work. {Sigh...}  
> In any case, please comment, criticisms are appreciated. Also, I would be interested to hear what y'all think should happen next. Kudos are nice, but words tell what you think. For all Crona amv fans out there, my two personal favorites are; My Blood is Black by Obsidian Zero, and Crona's Lullaby by Johnathan Burns. Crona amv suggestions would also be appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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